Outside, the distant wail of a siren began to rise over the sound of the rain.

It was coming closer.

The man turned his head toward the window, then back to me.

“The feds are on their way here,” he said.

“They aren’t just coming for Vance’s men.”

“They are coming for you, too.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket once more, the screen lighting up the dark fabric of my jeans.

I didn’t look down.

I kept my eyes locked on the stranger in the doorway.

He took a slow step forward, his hand emerging from his coat.

He was holding a badge, but it was not police.

It was federal.

“We need to go,” he repeated.

The blue light from the television screen flickered across his face, casting long shadows on the wall behind him.

I stood my ground, my fingers cold against the steel of the pole, waiting for his next move.

“Put the pole down, Lauren,” he said, keeping his hands where I could see them.

The silver badge in his left hand caught the blue light of the television.