The day after Ezekiel stormed into the office, I woke to the low hum of the city outside my window, already feeling the weight of what awaited me. The photograph and Marga’s questions clung to the edges of my mind, never letting me relax. Even as I sipped my coffee and tried to prepare for the morning, a tiny voice whispered, *“He’s going to come again. He’s going to push.”*

And I knew it was true.

My phone buzzed relentlessly before I even reached my office. Each message from ...