On the screen, Rachel stood in my hallway holding several papers, and her voice, when it came, was flat and impatient.

Sign it, she said.

No, I answered.

It only gives us temporary access.

No.

Michael is trying to help you.

He can help me by leaving my house.

And then, on the recording, Rachel’s hand closed around my wrist, hard, her knuckles going white with the pressure.