“We have a guest, Carolyn,” my father said. “Colonel Hayes is here to help us.”

“She shouldn’t be here,” Hayes whispered, his brow furrowing.

He looked highly irritated.

“This was supposed to be a quiet resolution.”

“It can still be quiet,” my father said.

“We just need to convince my daughter to cooperate.”

“I am not cooperating,” I said.

“You are going to prison, Colonel.”

“And you, Father, are going with him.”

Hayes looked at me for a long, silent moment.

His face was a mask of cold calculation.

He reached slowly into his wet trench coat.

His right hand disappeared into the dark inner pocket.

I tightened my finger on the trigger, the metal cold against my skin.

My breathing was shallow and rapid.

My vision narrowed to the front sight of my pistol.

“Don’t do it, Colonel,” I warned.

“There are other ways to handle this, Marcus,” my father said quickly.

“We do not need any more noise in this house.”

“The noise is already here,” Hayes said.

He didn’t pull his hand out yet.

He was waiting.