The Internal Affairs agent looked like a shark in a cheap suit.
He placed a printed log sheet on Captain Thorne’s desk. He tapped the timestamp with a manicured finger.
"3:03 AM," the agent said. His voice was nasally, vibrating with accusation. "Remote access initiated from your personal tablet, Detective Vance. IP address traced to your residence."
Sarah sat in the hard wooden chair, her back straight. Her hands were folded in her lap to hide the tremor.
"I was asleep," Sarah said.
"The log says otherwise. The 'Ronin' case files were accessed. Specifically, the intel on Darius Krell." The agent leaned in. "Who are you working for, Vance? You selling intel to the cartels?"
"I am the police!" Sarah snapped, standing up. "I don't sell intel. I hunt the people who do."
"Then explain t
