He was holding a leather briefcase in one hand, his passport in the other.

Vance stopped the SUV twenty yards away.

I opened the door before the vehicle had fully stopped, the cold wind whipping my hair across my face.

“Nora, wait,” Lena called out, but I was already walking toward the officers.

Grant saw me approaching.

His face was pale under the harsh tarmac floodlights, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and panic.

“Nora,” he shouted over the noise of the jet engine. “Tell them to let me board. This is a private matter.”

“It’s a federal matter now, Grant,” I said, stopping beside the lead officer.

The officer looked at me, then at Vance, who showed his credentials.

“Mr. Mercer,” the officer said to Grant. “The flight plan has been suspended. We need you to step away from the aircraft.”

“I have the legal right to travel,” Grant said, his voice cracking. “The funds are cleared.”

“The funds are stolen,” I said. “And the account you used is frozen.”

Grant looked at the briefcase in his hand, then at the open cabin door of the plane.