The officer’s heavy metal flashlight beam cut through the dark SUV, blinding me for a long second.

The smell of cold leather, wet wool, and old coffee filled the tight cabin.

Major Hayes rolled her window down just an inch, her hand steady on the controls.

A blast of freezing air rushed inside, carrying the sharp scent of pine and vehicle exhaust.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” Hayes asked, her voice tight but professional.

The officer did not answer her.

He pointed the bright flashlight directly at Jake’s face in the passenger seat.

“Step out of the vehicle, Captain Vance,” the officer commanded.

Behind him, Captain Vance himself stepped into the glare of the cruiser’s high beams.

His military parka was zipped to his chin, and his officer’s cap was dusted with light snow.

“Major Hayes,” Vance said, his voice cutting through the whistling wind.

“You are harboring an officer who has failed to report to his designated command.”

Inside the console, the receiver crackled again.

Walter’s voice was loud and clear over the transmitter.

“We had to do it, Logan,” Walter was saying to his younger son inside the trailer.