The caller ID showed a local Charlotte number.

I answered it, keeping my voice low.

“Hart,” I said.

“Colonel, it’s Detective Miller,” a voice said on the other end.

I knew Miller; he was one of the few honest cops left in the city.

“What is it, Detective?” I asked.

“You need to know what’s happening,” Miller said, his voice tense.

“The Prescott lawyers just left the station.”

“What do they want?” I asked.

“They’ve filed a formal complaint,” Miller said.

“They’re accusing Emily of grand larceny.”

“That’s a lie,” I said, my grip tightening on the phone.

“It doesn’t matter,” Miller said. “They brought bank records and signed statements.”

“They have a judge signing an arrest warrant for your daughter right now.”

I looked toward the back room where Emily was sleeping.

The rain beat hard against the window pane.

“They’re coming for her, Colonel,” Miller said.

“And they’re using the law to do it.”

“How much time do I have?” I asked.

“An hour,” Miller said. “Maybe less. The chief personally assigned two detectives from the warrant squad to handle this.”