I tucked the folder under my arm and followed him down a narrow hallway.

The floorboards creaked under our boots.

Sterling unlocked a small wooden door that opened directly into the damp night air.

The fog was thick, smelling of wet pine and rotting leaves.

“My truck is parked half a mile down the trail,” he whispered.

We stepped out into the dark, the cold air stinging my cheeks.

Behind us, the sound of car engines grew louder as they idled in the front driveway.

We walked quickly through the trees, the branches scraping against my jacket.

My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my grip tight on the folder.

“Who do you think it is?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Gregory has local deputies on his payroll,” Sterling said.

“And he has state investigators who owe him favors.”

“If they get these files, they will disappear forever.”

We reached a clearing where a faded green pickup truck sat under a tarp.

Sterling pulled the tarp off and unlocked the passenger door for me.

I climbed inside, the vinyl seat cold beneath me.