A sharp, splintering sound came through the phone.

“I’m in the top drawer,” Leo said, his breathing heavy.

“What’s in there?”

“Just files,” he said. “Utility bills. Bank statements. Wait.”

I heard paper rustling.

“She has a folder with your name on it, Grace,” Leo said.

“My name?”

“There are medical records in here,” he said. “Your discharge papers from when Sam was born.”

My heart pounded against my ribs.

“How did she get those?” I asked. “I never gave her permission.”

“She probably had Melanie copy them,” Leo said. “Melanie has connections at the clinic.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering how Melanie had offered to help me organize my paperwork.

“Keep looking,” I said. “Is there a journal?”

“I’m opening the bottom drawer now,” Leo said.

Another loud crack echoed through the receiver.

“There’s a black leather notebook,” Leo said. “It has a silver clasp.”

“Open it,” I said.

The sound of pages turning filled the silence.

“The entry from October fifth,” Leo read, his voice trembling. “‘He is ours now. Grace is too weak to fight back.'”

“Ours?” I whispered.