“Lila? Are you in there?”

It was Grant’s voice, tight with anger and panic.

Lila froze, her face draining of what little color it had left.

She looked at the door, then at the black drive in her hand, and finally back at me.

The door handle rattled again, harder this time.

“Lila!” Grant called out, his knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. “Open the door.”

Diane stepped toward the lock, her hand hovering over the deadbolt.

She looked at me, waiting for my signal.

I kept my eyes on Lila, watching her chest rise and fall as the handle shook once more.

“Decide now, Lila,” I said.

The phone in my pocket continued to buzz against my hip, its screen lighting up the fabric of my trousers.

Lila looked at the camera, then at the vibrating phone, and took a deep breath.

Lila took a slow, shuddering breath.

Her eyes darted from the heavy wooden door to the glowing red light on the tripod.

“If I do this privately,” Lila whispered, “if I hand this over to your lawyer, we can settle this quietly.”