“Mr. Vance,” the judge said, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“Do you care to explain why you are on this tape?”

Vance’s face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing without a sound.

Marissa glared at him, her fingers clawing into the leather of her handbag.

“Your Honor, this is a highly unorthodox presentation of evidence,” Vance stammered.

“Answer the question, counselor,” Judge Thomas snapped.

Before Vance could speak, the heavy double doors at the back of the courtroom swung open with a loud thud.

Two men in dark suits and trench coats walked into the room, their badges hanging from lanyards around their necks.

One of them carried a leather briefcase, while the other held a manila folder.

They did not look at the gallery as they marched down the center aisle.

They stopped directly behind Marissa and Vance.

The lead agent looked up at the bench.

“Your Honor, my name is Special Agent Harris with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” he said.

“We have a federal warrant that takes precedence over these proceedings.”

My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at Ryker.