Lucy is the skeleton key to everything we do at the CFC. She’s the keeper of my electronic kingdom, and therefore potentially a portal for the Feds. They could attempt to use her to gain access to office e-mail accounts and case records that go back many decades, and next I start wondering why they might care. I wonder why the helicopter followed me here. Did it really? Or did it just seem like it? Is the FBI only after Lucy? Are they after her at all or is it me they want?

“The CFC’s cases and all investigative and laboratory documents related are classified.” I hand the warrant back to Erin Loria. “They’re protected by state and federal law, and you can’t exploit Lucy’s position on my staff and use it as a means to access the CFC’s proprietary information. You know how improper that would be.”

I don’t say illegal because the FBI would make sure it isn’t. They would twist and permute the truth to justify their every move. Going up against them is worse than David and Goliath. It’s David without a rock and Goliath with an assault rifle. But knowing that never scares me from a fight with government officials. I don’t forget they’re supposed to work for the people and aren’t a law unto themselves even if they act like it. I’m always outnumbered and I never forget that either.

“You realize how seriously such a violation could impact every criminal case the CFC works,” I add. “I would be unable to ensure the integrity of any of our records, including thousands of those pertaining to federal cases, FBI cases. I think you’re quite aware of the potential consequences. I also would venture a guess that the Department of Justice doesn’t need more news stories about privacy violations, about spying and screwed-up investigations.”

“Are you threatening me with bad press?”

“I’m reminding you of certain consequences of your potential actions,” I repeat my careful phrasing as I follow her down a hallway of rich cherry paneling hung with Miró paintings and lithographs. “Your warrant to search my niece’s property in no way grants you any rights to access the CFC. Or to me personally for that matter.”

“Because if you do go to the press with anything about this,” Loria says as we reach the master suite, “I’ll charge you with obstruction of justice.”

“I’ve not threatened you in any way.” I write it down. “I’m the one feeling threatened.” I write that too. “Why are you threatening me?” I underline it.

“I’m not.”

“It feels like it.”

“And I respect your feelings.” She has a notebook out now and is writing down what I’m saying, maybe out of self-defense.