She didn’t pull away this time; she leaned into me, her body shaking.

On the screen, the detective picked up Lucas’s laptop from the floor.

He placed it carefully into a plastic evidence bag.

Lucas was staring at the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold tile.

The arrogant, untouchable man I had married was gone.

In his place was a desperate, caught thief.

“Anne,” Melanie’s voice came through the phone again.

“It’s over. They’ve got him.”

“Thank you, Melanie,” I said. “For having the courage to stand up to him.”

“I did it for my life back,” Melanie said quietly. “And for yours.”

The call went dead.

In our Denver foyer, Miller stood quietly, watching the snow fall outside the open door.

“I’ll leave this evidence with you,” Miller said, nodding toward the manila envelope.

“The local federal field office will want to see it by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” I said.

He gave a brief nod, pulled his gloves back on, and walked out into the winter afternoon.

The front door clicked shut behind him, leaving the house in a deep, heavy silence.