Ivy went back to her apartment that night for the first time in three days, exhausted past the point of thought, and found herself standing in front of the small box she'd never fully unpacked from her father's arrest, the one she'd shoved into her closet six years ago and never opened since.

She almost didn't open it now. But something about the day, about her father's bruised face and Webb's shaking hands and Julian's smooth, terrible voice at the podium, made her finally pull it down and sit with it on her bedroom floor.

Old letters. A watch that had stopped working years ago. And near the bottom, a...