“Thank you, Julianne,” I said.

I handed the phone to one of the technicians.

“Download everything,” I said.

Miller’s terminal beeped twice, a deeper tone this time.

“The biometric scanner is cycling, Colonel,” Miller said.

“It is requesting the primary thumbprint.”

Vance walked over to Grant and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s go, son,” Vance said.

“Walk over there and put your thumb on the glass.”

Grant did not move. He looked like he might faint.

“Grant,” Patricia said, not looking back from the window.

“Do not assist them.”

“If you don’t, Grant, we will get a federal order to take it by force,” I said.

“It will only take longer, and it will look worse on the record.”

Grant looked at his mother’s back.

Then he looked at Julianne, who was staring at the floor.

He knew he was completely alone.

He slowly walked toward the fireplace.

His shoes dragged on the rug.

He reached out a trembling right hand toward the safe.

“Just the thumb, Mr. Monroe,” Miller said, pointing to the glowing red glass.

Grant pressed his thumb against the scanner.