“Hannah, you have to tell Jake to stop,” she sobbed. “They’re here.”

“Who is there, Patricia?” I asked, my heart stopping.

“The marshals,” she whispered. “They’re tearing the house apart.”

“They found the safe in the basement, Hannah. They found the real records.”

I stared at Walter, my phone still pressed to my ear.

“They found them, Walter,” I said, my voice ringing out in the cold.

Walter’s face went pale under the yellow porch light.

“What did you say?” he whispered.

“The marshals are at your house,” I said. “They found the safe.”

Just then, a loud, sharp crack echoed from the woods behind the trailer.

A gunshot shattered the silence of the snow-bound woods.

Jake grabbed my arm and pulled me down behind the brick pillar of the porch.

The snow stung my face as we hit the cold ground.

Beside us, Major Hayes had already drawn her service weapon, her eyes scanning the dark line of pine trees behind the driveway.

“Get down!” Jake shouted, shielding my body with his own.

Walter did not move.