I walked quickly across the asphalt, the cold rain soaking through my thin jacket.

I pulled open the passenger door and slid inside.

The car smelled of damp wool and cold coffee.

Nora sat behind the wheel, her dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

She looked at me, her eyes scanning my face before dropping to the plastic bag.

“You look like hell,” she said softly.

“I feel like it,” I said.

I handed her the bag.

She pulled a pair of nitrile gloves from her glove compartment and put them on.

She took the flash drive out, examining the gold crest under the dim cabin light.

“The Thorne Family Foundation,” she muttered. “This isn’t just a personal drive.”

“It’s encrypted,” I said. “Double-layer, probably. Can you get in?”

Nora reached into the backseat and pulled a heavy black laptop onto her lap.

“The state attorney’s office upgraded their decryption suite last month,” she said, plugging a modified hub into her USB port. “They don’t know I still have the remote access keys.”

She inserted the gold drive.