According to Dr. Vale’s signed death certificate, Emily had died at 6:15 PM that same evening.

“Daniel, look at the time,” Sophia whispered, her breath warm against my shoulder.

“She was alive,” I said. “Five hours after they said she was dead.”

“The sender used an encrypted routing number,” Sophia said, tapping the screen. “But I know who took this.”

She grabbed my jacket sleeve and pulled me toward the French doors.

“We have to go right now,” she said. “Your mother just signed the final release forms.”

“For what?” I asked.

“The crematorium,” Sophia said. “They are prepping Emily’s body at the municipal facility on Harbor Road.”

My chest tightened, a familiar combat reflex locking my muscles into place.

“They’re going to burn the evidence,” I said.

“Not if we get there first,” Sophia said.

We ran through the wet grass of the estate, keeping low to avoid the security cameras.

Sophia’s unmarked cruiser was parked behind a cluster of overgrown pines.

The tires spun on the wet gravel as she slammed the car into drive.

Rain lashed against the windshield, the wipers struggling to clear the downpour.