Mitchell reached for the phone, then stopped.
Calling Reed in the middle of the night would warn him. Calling the attorney general’s office might bury the concern in procedure before anyone acted. Calling Amelia Grant, Gavin Cole’s attorney, risked crossing lines Mitchell had spent his entire career respecting.
But an innocent man had come within twenty-two minutes of death.
Lines looked different after that.
Mitchell picked up the phone and dialed.
Amelia answered on the fourth ring, her voice thick with exhaustion. “This better be life or death.”
“It may be.”
Silence.
Then the sleep vanished from her voice. “Warden?”
“I found something. Or rather, someone wanted me to find something.”
“What happened?”
Mitchell looked down at the photograph.
“I need to meet you somewhere private.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Amelia did not ask why again.
“Give me twenty minutes.”
“Not your office,” Mitchell said. “Not the courthouse. Somewhere without cameras.”
