“The unused portion has been returned to the court-appointed receiver,” Voss said.

He turned back to me and opened his leather briefcase.

He pulled out a heavy manila envelope and a silver flash drive.

“Mrs. Prescott, these are copies of the correspondence from Callum’s private server,” Voss said, handing them to me.

I took the envelope. Its weight felt substantial in my hands.

“What is that?” Callum demanded, reaching for it.

The deputy marshal stepped between Callum and the car.

“These are four years of encrypted emails,” Voss said, looking directly at Callum. “The ones where you detailed the tracking software you installed on Avery’s vehicle.”

Callum’s face went completely blank.

“And the financial records,” Voss added. “The wire transfers to Dr. Whitaker to falsify her medical files.”

“That is privileged information!” Callum shouted, his voice cracking.

“The crime-fraud exception applies when a client uses their attorney to facilitate a felony,” Voss said. “I am protecting my license.”

Voss turned on his heel and walked back to his sedan.

The engine started, and the car backed down the driveway, leaving them behind.