“Wait, Daniel, she’s awake,” Dr. Shah said.

Before I could answer, the kitchen door burst open.

Two uniformed police officers entered the room with their flashlights drawing bright circles on the walls.

“Police! Nobody move!” one officer shouted.

Vance slowly raised his hands.

A small pocket knife slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the linoleum floor.

Ruth stepped back, her hand over her mouth.

“He has a weapon,” I told the officer, pointing to the floor.

The second officer kicked the knife away from Vance’s feet.

“Hands behind your back,” the first officer ordered.

Vance did not fight.

His face had gone completely gray in the flashing police lights.

“This is a mistake,” Vance muttered, his voice cracking.

“I am his attorney,” he said to the officer.

“We were discussing a private matter.”

“He is not my attorney anymore,” I said.

I held up the heavy paper folder in my hand.

“And this is evidence of extortion, fraud, and illegal adoption coercion.”

The officer looked at the document, then at me.

“Are you Daniel Whitmore?” the officer asked.

“Yes,” I said.