Melanie’s voice came through the phone, accompanied by the distant sound of a siren.

“I gave the detectives the master access codes you sent me, Anne,” Melanie said.

“They’re bypassing his security block.”

On my screen, I watched a tall detective in a gray suit step up to the front entrance.

He didn’t knock.

He held a paper in one hand and used his other hand to signal the officers behind him.

The heavy glass door of the Palm Springs house swung open.

Four armed officers surged into the bright, open-concept living room.

The camera angle shifted as I clicked on the indoor living room feed.

Lucas was sitting on the white leather sofa, a laptop on his knees and a glass of scotch on the side table.

He jumped to his feet, the laptop sliding off his lap and crashing onto the tile floor.

“Federal agents! Don’t move!” a voice boomed through the computer speakers.

Lucas threw his hands into the air, his face turning a sickly shade of pale.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucas shouted, his voice cracking with panic.