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“I have a grenade,” I blurt, holding up the evidence for Justin to scrutinize more closely. As distractions go, it’s a precision strike. He seems bamboozled. “But it’s okay!” I rush on. “A friend of a friend knows a military weapons expert. I’m sure she’s overreacting—but now Defense is intrigued, and half of Facebook is onto me, so I’m going to have to follow through and get the police involved.”

