Three days passed in that room.

Reyes brought meals.

Webb checked in twice a day.

Mom — Katherine — spent hours in a separate room with two attorneys and a federal prosecutor, going through documents I wasn't allowed to see.

I read.

I slept too much.

I sat by the parking structure window and watched cars move in slow circles below.

On the fourth morning, Webb came in earlier than usual.

His face told me something had happened before he said a word.

"There was an incident last night," he said.

"At the county facility where Ryan is being held."

Mom set down her coffee.

"What kind of incident?"

"Someone passed a message to him through another inmate.

Written on a napkin.

It said—" Webb looked at his notes— "'Tell us where the woman hid the copy and your daughter goes home.'"

The air in the room changed.

"They think there's still a physical copy," Mom said.

"Yes."

"And they think Ryan knows where it is."

"They're using him as a channel to get to you." Webb sat down.

"He refused to respond.

For whatever that's worth."

Mom made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh.

"That's something, I suppose."

"It tells us Hale's team is getting anxious.

They took the storage unit boxes and found nothing usable.

They're starting to suspect they missed something." He looked at her carefully.

"This is the moment we discussed.

If you're going to agree to the expanded cooperation, we need your decision now.

Before they find another way in."

Mom looked at me.

I looked back at her.

"I already decided," she said.

"Three days ago.

I just needed to sit with it."

"And?"

"I'll do it.

Full testimony.

Everything."

Webb nodded slowly.

"I'll make the call."

He stepped out.

Mom turned to the window.

I watched her reflection in the glass — the line of her jaw, the set of her shoulders.

"Are you scared?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

Without hesitation.

Without apology.

"Me too."

She turned and looked at me.

"Good.

It means we're paying attention."

The door opened again.

It wasn't Webb.

It was Foss.

She was holding a tablet, and whatever was on the screen had removed all expression from her face.

"Katherine," she said.

"Victor Hale filed a motion in federal court this morning through his legal team.

He's claiming that your original testimony was obtained under coercion.

He's petitioning to have the entire original case record sealed."

Mom's chin lifted slightly.

"On what grounds?"

"He's alleging that the agent who handled your initial intake made promises he wasn't authorized to make — and that you testified based on assurances the government never formally approved."

"That's a lie," Mom said flatly.

"We know that.

But his legal team is good.

If they get the motion heard before we move on the expanded case—" Foss stopped.

"Katherine.

Was there anything in your original intake that was irregular?

Anything your handler told you informally that wasn't in the written agreement?"

Mom was quiet for exactly two seconds.

"He told me," she said slowly, "that if I testified, they would make sure the person I was protecting would never know I was involved."

Foss and Webb both looked up.

"The person you were protecting," Foss said carefully.

"Who were you protecting?"

Mom looked at her hands.

"That's the part," she said, "I haven't told you yet."