Rebecca grabbed my coat sleeve with both hands, her fingernails digging through the heavy tweed.

“Please don’t tell your son you found me.

He’ll destroy us both,” she said.

“He won’t lay a hand on you,” I said.

“You don’t have the proof yet,” she said, her voice desperate and shaking.

“If you go after Garrett tonight without proof, he’ll use the emergency legal papers he filed to lock you out of the offices tomorrow morning.”

I thought about the corporate proxy papers Dale Owens had mentioned at First National Bank of Dallas.