At 11:46 p.m., a waitress called because my fifteen-year-old daughter had asked if she and her eight-year-old brother could sleep in a diner booth until morning.

By 9:00 a.m. Saturday morning, the story was leading every local news broadcast in Southwest Ohio.

*PROMINENT LOCAL ATTORNEY ARRESTED IN MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR MEDICAL THEFT RING.*

*CONTRACTOR HELD ON $1 MILLION BAIL FOR CHILD ENDANGERMENT AND FRAUD.*

The Montgomery County District Attorney held a press conference on the courthouse steps while Rachel Diaz and I watched from the television in her downtown law office.

Arthur Vance had been taken into custody at his suburban mansion at dawn, after federal agents intercepted the shipping manifests connecting his offshore escrow accounts to the warehouse theft ring. Facing multiple counts of federal wire fraud, conspiracy, and racketeering, the venerable shark had rolled over on his own co-conspirators before the morning coffee had even brewed.

“Vance is singing an entire opera,” Rachel said, sliding a fresh mug of black coffee across the conference table to me. “He’s already admitted that Derek approached him six months ago, looking for ways to launder cash from the stolen hospital inventory. Derek thought he was a mastermind. He didn't realize Vance and his daughter were using him as the fall guy from day one.”

I held the warm mug between both hands, staring out the window at the rain finally clearing over the city.

“What about the children, Rachel?”

“The family court matter is over, Mara,” Rachel said gently. “Judge Harrison reviewed the criminal indictments at seven this morning. She entered an order granting you sole legal and physical custody of Lucy and Eli, effective immediately. Derek’s parental rights will likely be terminated or suspended indefinitely once the criminal convictions come down.”

“And the money?”

Rachel sighed, her expression turning somber.

“The eighty-four thousand from the equity line was frozen in Vanessa’s escrow account before she could transfer it to the Caymans. The court will order its return to your mortgage lender. But the savings... the twelve thousand in cash and Lucy’s bonds... Derek spent that months ago paying off loan sharks in Cincinnati.”

I closed my eyes.

The money was gone. The house on Sycamore had eighty-four thousand dollars in mud attached to its title. My credit was bruised, my career at the medical equipment company would require months of forensic auditing to clear my professional name, and my children were scarred by a night of terror they would carry for the rest of their lives.

We were broke. We were exhausted.

But we were alive.

“I have to go get them,” I said, standing up. “They’ve been at Jill’s long enough.”