As always, it begins with too little sleep and song... We begin with a short snippet, but the first chapter is coming very soon.

PROLOGUE

"Words, they keep dropping.
They keep spilling from my hands on to paper.
I'm in Virginia.
It's 3am and I can't fall asleep…"

Whistleblower - Arkells

The hotel room smells faintly of mildew and stale cookies—chocolate chip, perhaps. My subconscious need to identify the exact type of portable snack surely stems from the ominous growling of my stomach, but I can't surrender to something as base as human need.

There are lives at stake that I cannot risk for anything, even a slice of cold pizza from the mini fridge.

Had you told me where the last three weeks would take me, how they would irrevocably change my entire life, I would have rolled my eyes and told you to fuck off. It's a goddamn movie cliché, isn't it, for a life to change so fast? And yet, staring at the evidence scattered across a series of notebook pages, sound files and PDF documents, I can't come to another conclusion.

I drag and drop the sound files into a playlist, pressing play as my stomach lurches. That voice. Her voice. She trusted me, and I've failed her now. I've sealed her fate, with one careless slip of the tongue. And if she is lost, then these recordings—the truth that she was willing to lay down her life for—are all that remain.

Opening a new document, my fingers fly over the keys, setting the stage for the sordid story she whispers through my ear buds.

"The last person who tried to take him down was murdered. I don't want to die. But I will not let my hometown be destroyed. I can't sit and watch it all be torn to pieces. I need your help. I need you to stop him."

"Why not take it to the police?" I hear myself ask.

"He's got the governor in his pocket. The sheriff is on his payroll. This has to be public. The pressure needs to be on them all to ensure justice is carried out."

This is front page news I'm writing in our nation's capital, but there is no celebration here, no joy. There is only a humble effort to ensure it wasn't all in vain. Most journalists would be cracking open champagne, but I'm only interested in cracking skulls. Must be my father's DNA.

I miss it at first, but the second knock—short, sharp raps—startles me from my work. I yank out my ear buds, reaching for the revolver my father foisted on me as we parted ways in Pennsylvania. I'm not expecting company and three in the morning is hardly a social call. A third knock is accompanied by a hushed whisper.

"Damn it, Jones, I know you're in there! Open up!"

My forearms are awash in goosebumps as I recognize the voice beyond the double-bolted door. It can't be. I peek through the hole, confirming my visitor's identity. It's really her. My heart shudders and skips as I flip the locks, ushering in the slender female tapping her foot on the stained carpet in the corridor.

"I thought you were dead!" I exclaim, ushering her inside.

"As far as everyone else is concerned, I'm a corpse. The only way we all get out of this alive is if the world beyond continues to believe that."

She settles onto the edge of the bed, stripping off her damp trench coat and discarding it on the floor. Her hand slides into her purse, tugging free a familiar object.

I lay the gun down on the bedside table, eyes widening. "Is that what I think it is?"

"You're damn right it is. It's everything we need to end this, once and for all. I can't undo what has been done, but I can make damn sure someone pays for it. One way—" She hesitates, gesturing to my weapon, "—or another."

The hatred for those who have taken from me, from us both, is feeding upon my grief. It would be so easy to make a call, to gather reinforcements and take this to the streets, but it's not what she would want. And with one corpse back from the grave, I cannot help but cling to a desperate fever dream of a second resurrection.

"We do this how she wanted it," I announce. "But if it doesn't work out, I'm very invested in Plan B."

She tugs absently on her ponytail, tightening it with a stern look. "Let's see why this little device I pilfered has been worth killing for…"