“We found the encryption keys, Vanessa,” I said.

She looked at the drive, the color draining from her face.

“The buyer in Chicago has already been detained,” I said. “They are cooperating.”

Vanessa leaned back, her jaw tight.

“I made you look like a traitor to your own agency for three years,” she whispered.

“And now the agency has the ledger,” I said. “They know you framed me to cover your own transactions.”

“He was easy,” she said, a cold smile touching her lips. “Grant wanted your money, and he hated that you were stronger than him.”

“He is a weak man,” I agreed. “And you are going to prison.”

I stood up and picked up my folder.

“The prosecutor is filing charges of conspiracy, kidnapping, and child abuse,” I said.

“There is no bail for you.”

She did not look at me again as I walked out of the room.

The following afternoon, the sun broke through the gray clouds over Denver.

The snow on the sidewalks was turning into dirty water.

I stood in the back of the federal courtroom, holding a cup of hot coffee.