“She is desperate,” he said. “The board meeting was supposed to be tomorrow. She knows the press conference just ruined her leverage.”

“She tried to use the police on my children,” I said.

“I know,” Blake said. “I am so sorry, Emma.”

“Sorry does not protect them,” I said.

I turned and walked toward the exit of the studio.

The heavy soundproofing doors clicked shut behind us.

We walked down the narrow, fluorescent-lit hallway of the broadcast building.

Outside, the New York air was cold and damp.

A gray mist was rolling off the Hudson River.

We got into the back of Blake’s waiting SUV.

“Take us to the airport,” Blake told the driver.

The driver nodded and pulled into the traffic.

I watched the city lights blur through the rain-streaked window.

“I need to make a call,” I said.

“Of course,” Blake said.

I pulled up the email I had received three days ago.

It was from the Laurentian Great Lakes Foundation.

They were an independent scientific body funded by private, non-corporate endowments.

I dialed the number of the director, Dr. Aris Thorne.