“We don’t know yet,” Rebecca said, her voice completely flat.

“There’s a unit rented in Patricia’s name on Industrial Parkway in Norfolk, but we need a specific search warrant to open it.”

“He told me ten minutes ago that he was terrified of her,” I said, holding the paper by its corner.

“Read line eighteen,” Rebecca said, pointing her silver pen at the middle of the third page.

I looked back down at the text logs.

At four forty-five on Tuesday afternoon, while Lily was sitting on the living room sofa in her soiled clothes holding her rabbit, Derek had sent one last message to his mother.