Chapter 2: What the Folder Knew
Part 2 ⬇️
It was Emma.
She was fully dressed, curled on top of the covers, one hand pressed flat against her chest.
Her eyes were closed.
Her breathing was shallow and fast.
I didn't reach for the w\*apon.
I reached for the lamp.
In the low light I could see it — the gray color of her face, the fine trembling in her fingers, the way her lips had gone almost white.
"Emma."
Nothing.
"Emma." Louder this time.
Her eyes opened halfway.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I just needed — one minute.
I'll go."
She tried to sit up and couldn't.
I called Luke.
He appeared in the doorway in under thirty seconds, took one look at her, and said, "I'll get the car."
"Call the doctor here," I said.
"Nobody takes her anywhere."
Luke stared at me.
In twelve years, I had never once used that tone for anyone but myself.
The doctor arrived within the hour.
I waited in the hallway outside my own bedroom while he examined her.
When he came out, his face was careful in a way I didn't like.
"She's severely malnourished, Danny.
Exhaustion, low blood pressure, early signs of—" He stopped.
"When did she last eat a full meal?"
I had no answer.
He did.
He'd found it in her bag — a single granola bar, and a handwritten list of her mother's facility payment dates.
She hadn't been eating so her mother could keep her room.
Luke appeared at my shoulder and said quietly, "There's something else.
I ran her name like you asked me to last week."
May you like
He held out a folder.
I opened it — and the hallway went very still.
