Her small body felt light, far too light for a five-year-old child.

I held her until her breathing became deep and even.

Three hours later, my partner Marcus arrived at the hospital to watch the door.

He wore his standard gray suit, his badge clipped to his belt.

“She’s sleeping,” Marcus said, nodding toward the bed. “I’ll stay right here.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I have to go to the federal building.”

I drove my department SUV through the slushy Denver streets.

The snow on the highway was turning into dirty gray ice under the tires.

I parked in the basement garage of the federal building and took the elevator up.

The linoleum floors of the eighth floor were polished to a high shine.

Agent Carter met me outside the glass doors of the interrogation suite.

“Grant is in Room A,” Carter said, handing me a blue folder. “He has already asked for three different corporate lawyers.”

“Have any of them agreed to take his case?” I asked.

“Not when they found out his personal and business accounts were frozen under the emergency order,” Carter said.