His phone was pressed to his ear.
He had said, “They can take the girl later. First I need her mother’s signature.”
Then he had mentioned that Abigail was registered as living with Grandma.
Christopher stopped writing.
“Did he say who ‘they’ were?”
Abigail shook her head.
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No.”
“Did Gregory know you were awake?”
“I don’t think so.”
She looked down.
“I pretended to sleep when he walked out.”
Mom reached across the table and covered Abigail’s hand with hers.
Nobody tried to make the moment bigger than it already was.
We had enough.
The first thing I did was change every password Gregory might know.
Email.
Banking.
Cloud storage.
My phone account.
Then Christopher asked whether Gregory had access to a digital copy of my signature.
I almost said no.
Then I remembered a document I had emailed him months earlier because he had offered to print it for me.
