The blood drained from my mother’s face.

“She’s lying! It’s a trick to stall!” Lydia shrieked, her voice pitching into a hysterical frequency. She lunged for my arm, but the male officer casually extended one of his own and blocked her path.

“Let’s just take a look, ma’am,” he said, his tone suddenly neutral. The suspicion in the room had shifted a degree.

Helena didn’t need telling twice. She sprinted into the kitchen and returned three seconds later with her silver iPad, fingers flying across the screen, pulling up the hidden email account we’d set up for exactly this scenario.

“Right here,” she said, her voice shaking with adrenaline, handing it to Officer Davis. “Folders organized by month and week. Going back two years.”

Davis took the tablet and tapped an email dated three days ago. On the glowing screen, a high-resolution photograph of a pristine, un-torn notebook page appeared.