Then I typed my brother one message.

If anything happens to me or the baby tomorrow, do not let anyone touch my body.

Take the attached file straight to the district attorney.

My phone lit up instantly — Emmett calling.

I declined it and typed fast. He is asleep in the next room.

Do not call.

Be at the hospital at six a.m. with the police. A pause, three dots, and then: I’m coming. I turned the screen face-down against my chest and lay in the dark with my heart going like a fist on a door, and I waited for the longest night of my life to end.

Three copies in three places: that was not panic, and it was not paranoia.