I looked at Diane.

Her hand tightened on the phone receiver.

“Did he delete it?” I asked.

“No,” Marcus said. “But he downloaded the only copy we had on the secure server.”

“Can you retrieve the metadata?” Diane asked.

“I can try,” Marcus said. “But there’s something else.”

“What?”

“The physical archive box,” Marcus said. “The one containing the paper originals from twelve years ago.”

“Is it still in your storage facility?” Diane asked.

“We sent it to the commercial warehouse in Santa Ana last year,” Marcus said.

“But according to the log, a courier picked it up three hours ago.”

My heart sank.

“Grant,” I said.

“He’s destroying the evidence,” Diane said.

She looked at the clock on the wall.

It was eleven forty-five.

“Marcus, where is that warehouse?” Diane asked.

“The industrial park on Grand Avenue,” Marcus said. “But it’s closed to the public at this hour.”

“Thank you, Marcus,” Diane said, and hung up.

She stood up and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair.

“We have to go,” she said.

“If Grant’s courier has the box, it’s already gone,” I said.