“Give me tonight,” I said.

Albright looked at Merritt, then back at me.

“You have until eight tomorrow morning,” Albright said.

“If you find nothing, I sign Cole’s discharge papers.”

“Understood,” I said.

I turned and walked out of the office, my heels snapping against the terrazzo corridor.

The air in the hallway was cold.

I pulled out my phone as I walked toward the elevators.

The security app showed no further motion, but the camera feed was dark.

Someone had cut the power to the router.

I walked out of the building into the gray D.C. drizzle.

The streetlights were just beginning to flicker on in the late afternoon gloom.

I found my car in the gravel lot near the annex.

The engine started with a low growl, the wipers clearing the wet leaves from the windshield.

The drive to Ridge Road took forty minutes through the worsening traffic.

The rain turned into a steady, heavy downpour by the time I reached the state line.

The trees along the driveway of my father’s house were overgrown.