“The Prescotts own this city, Colonel,” Reeves said, his voice laced with genuine panic. “If they find out I showed you these files, I won’t just lose my license.”

“You need to get out of here, Doctor,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Leave the folder.”

“I can’t do that,” he said, shaking his head. “If this goes missing from my office, they’ll know it was me.”

“Then copy it to an external server and delete the access logs,” I said.

I tapped the pocket of my uniform jacket where Emily’s flash drive sat heavy against my ribs.

“I have what I need to start,” I said.

Reeves hesitated, then gripped the folder tightly against his chest.

“They have security guards at every exit of this building who answer directly to Brandon Prescott,” Reeves said.

“They are planning to move Emily tonight at midnight to the Whispering Pines facility.”

“Whispering Pines is a private psychiatric retreat,” Emily sobbed from the bed. “They’ll drug me. They’ll keep me quiet forever.”

“Not on my watch,” I said.

I stood up straight, adjusting the collar of my battle dress uniform.