They went to bed shortly after ten. Angela lay awake listening for engines, then hated herself for listening. Marcus kept one hand resting on the blanket between them, not touching her unless she reached for him. He had learned that comfort offered without demand was sometimes the only comfort a person could accept.
A little before midnight, headlights swept across their bedroom wall. One vehicle stopped, then another. Angela sat up, heart hammering. Through the damaged blinds she saw police lights washing over the neighboring houses, and she knew before the first fist struck the front door that Holt had not accepted the bond decision as the end of anything.
"Police!" his voice shouted from the porch. "Open up. We have a warrant."
Marcus reached for his phone. Angela reached for hers, then remembered the phone Holt had crushed and lifted the spare Diana had given her instead. They looked at each other in the dark, and something passed between them that needed no words. The first raid had been designed to isolate her. This time they were going to preserve every second they could, whether it helped them immediately or not.
The second warrant was written on real paper. That made it more frightening, not less. Captain Holt held it through the damaged doorway and announced that officers had received information about illegal weapons being moved into the house. A judge's signature appeared beneath an affidavit Angela could barely read in the porch light. It was an official document, but the presence of an official signature did not tell her whether the statements beneath it were true.
"We need to see that before you take another step," Marcus said.
Holt handed him a copy. The affidavit described a confidential tip alleging that multiple firearm cases had been carried into the home after Angela returned from jail. It said the source had previously supplied accurate information, but it gave no details about when the supposed cases had been seen or how a witness could have recognized what was inside them. Marcus thought of the neighbors who had walked in that evening carrying casseroles and cleaning supplies.
"Nobody brought firearms into this house," he said. "Our neighbors brought food. We have footage."
"Then let us confirm that," Holt answered. His tone was almost cheerful. "Step aside."
Angela was already recording. She stood clear of the doorway, repeated that they would not obstruct a search under a warrant, and asked the officers to identify themselves for the recording. Griggs told her to put away the phone. When she asked what law prohibited a resident from documenting the search from a safe distance, he moved toward her with the same look he had worn while she lay on the pavement.
Marcus stepped into the space between them, palms open. "She's standing away from the search area. Please don't touch her."
"Move," Griggs said, shoving at Marcus's shoulder.