We rushed out of the room and down to the parking garage.

Naomi’s black sedan was cold when we climbed inside.

She started the engine, and the windshield wipers began their rhythmic slapping against the glass.

The Seattle rain was coming down harder now, blurring the streetlights into streaks of yellow and red.

We drove through the dark streets toward the waterfront.

Neither of us spoke.

The tension in the car was thick, heavy with the knowledge of what we were risking.

If Antoinette succeeded, I would lose my daughter.

If we failed to get the files, the Harrows would crush us both.

We pulled into the ferry terminal parking lot.

The concrete was slick with water, reflecting the bright fluorescent lights of the terminal building.

We got out of the car, pulling our coats tight against the wind.

The air smelled of salt and diesel fuel.

We walked into the terminal lobby.

It was mostly empty, save for a few commuters sitting on the plastic benches.

I scanned the room, looking for Sienna’s bright blonde hair.

“Do you see her?” Naomi asked, her eyes darting around.