“The defense just filed a motion accusing you of stealing classified intelligence.”

“It isn’t classified, Marcus,” I said. “It’s evidence of a decades-long cover-up.”

“They are asking for an emergency protective order and an arrest warrant,” he said. “They are claiming national security.”

“Colonel Whitaker hid the toxic soil reports at the training camp,” I said. “He let those soldiers die of cancer, and then he buried the files.”

“You don’t have standing anymore, Grace,” he said. “You resigned from the Department of Justice.”

“I have Aaron Vale sitting right next to me in my passenger seat,” I replied. “If we don’t get this before a judge today, the evidence at the farm is going to burn.”

The line went quiet except for the hum of my tires on the wet road.

“You’re asking me to stick my neck out for a rogue investigator,” Marcus said.

“I’m asking you to do your job,” I said. “Call Judge Vane. Tell him we need an emergency hearing on the injunction. If we wait until tomorrow, there won’t be a case left to try.”