Evelyn Reed’s medical assessment from the hospital intake.

Mild hypothermia.

Core temperature reading.

Deep tissue bruising on the upper wrists.

My stomach clenched with every word I copied out.

I was documenting the methodical abuse of my own grandson on my own property.

The pages smelled of old dust and fresh ink.

I punched three holes along the side of Clay’s latest thirty-eight-hundred-dollar pay stub.