It felt like a tight band wrapping around my waist, then slowly releasing.

I needed to buy time, and I needed to draw him into the open.

“Alright,” I said, pretending to break.

“I’m tired of running, Julian.”

“I want this to be over.”

“Where do we meet?” I asked.

“I will text you an address in downtown Los Angeles,” he said.

“No,” I said quickly. “I can’t travel far.”

“I have a prenatal checkup tomorrow morning at ten.”

“It is at the secure clinic on Olympic Boulevard.”

“There are private security guards at the entrance, and Victoria’s people can’t get inside.”

“We can do the exchange in the private parking garage beneath the building.”

There was a long silence on the line.

I could hear his heavy, labored breathing.

“Ten o’clock,” he finally said.

“Do not play games with me, Natalie.”

The line went dead.

I immediately dialed the direct number for Assistant U.S. Attorney Robert Vance.

He answered on the second ring.

“Vance,” he said.

“It’s Natalie,” I said, my voice steadying.

“Julian just called me.”

“He is alive, and he wants the ledger.”