Charles didn’t answer him.

He looked at Marcus. “Do we have any zip-ties in the back?”

“Under the sink,” Marcus said.

Marcus scrambled over and retrieved a pack of heavy-duty plastic cable ties.

Together, he and Charles bound Lawrence’s hands and feet securely.

They dragged him into the small, windowless dry-storage pantry at the back of the office.

Charles closed the heavy wooden door and slid the brass deadbolt into place.

“That won’t keep him forever,” Marcus said, wiping his brow.

“It doesn’t need to,” Charles said. “It just needs to buy us a few hours.”

Charles turned to me, his eyes filled with a quiet determination.

“We have to go, Emily,” he said. “Before Julian Bellamy realizes Lawrence hasn’t reported back.”

“The storm is getting worse,” Marcus warned, pointing to the window.

Outside, the snow was falling in thick, horizontal sheets, completely obscuring the alleyway.

“I don’t care about the storm,” I said, clutching the blue binder to my chest. “He is my father.”

Charles nodded once. “Marcus, take the USB drive. Get to a safe place and keep it secure.”