Behind him, the two local officers were walking toward the front entrance of the mansion, escorted by Marco.

“They are leaving?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“For now,” Ryker said, adjusting his silver cuffs.

“The federal prosecutor’s office just flagged the warrant. But we do not have much time.”

He looked past my shoulder at the bed, where Owen was holding Lily’s hand.

The twins looked so small in the center of the massive guest bed.

“The emergency custody hearing is scheduled for nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” Ryker said.

I pulled out my phone and showed him the text from Hannah.

“Hannah found something on the airport security footage,” I said.

“Marissa wasn’t alone at O’Hare.”

Ryker stared at the screen, his jaw tightening.

“Who was with her?” he asked.

“She didn’t say,” I replied.

“She said we will see it in court.”

We spent the night in the nursery wing, the rain drumming a steady, relentless beat against the bulletproof glass.

Neither Ryker nor I slept.

The next morning, the wind howled off Lake Michigan, throwing freezing rain against the tall windows of the Daley Center.