Chapter 4: A Father’s Dilemma
Arthur sat in his idling cruiser outside a 24-hour diner on the outskirts of town, the neon sign buzzing a sickly red glow through the windshield. He hadn't gone back to the station after Miller’s warning. Instead, he had driven out to the deserted stretch of highway where the county met the state jurisdiction, trying to clear his head.
The dashboard radio crackled with dispatch traffic, routine calls about stalled vehicles and noise complaints, sounds of a normal world that Arthur felt entirely disconnected from. In the glove compartment, beneath a pile of registration forms and old service certificates, lay a second, unissued firearm—a piece not registered to his precinct badge. It was a clean weapon, one he had kept since his days working narcotics in the city before transferring to this quiet rural backwater.
He pulled the heavy black pistol out, checking the magazine in the dim amber light of the dash. Fully loaded. Hollow points. The weight of it felt alien and yet intimately familiar.
His phone buzzed on the passenger seat. The screen lit up with Evelyn’s name. He swiped to answer, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Arthur, where are you?" Evelyn’s voice was tight, strained with anxiety. "Miller has been asking questions. He checked the digital access logs. He knows someone accessed the secure archive using your credentials at 4:15 PM."
Arthur rubbed his eyes with his free hand, feeling the grit of exhaustion under his palms. "Did he mention anyone else?"
"Not yet, but he's suspicious. He went to get coffee with Captain Hayes ten minutes ago. Arthur, you need to come home. We need to figure out what to do with Clara before the morning shift starts. People will notice she's missing from her room."
"I can't just keep her chained to the porch forever, Evelyn," Arthur said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "It’s insane. It’s kidnapping. If someone drives down that road and sees her—"
"No one drives down that road at night, and you know it," Evelyn interrupted sharply. "Unless you have a better plan to keep her from walking into the state police barracks with that thumb drive, you need to trust me. I'm the only reason you aren't wearing an orange jumpsuit right now."
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Arthur stared through the rain-streaked windshield at the empty highway. Evelyn was right, and that realization made him feel physically sick. He had spent his entire adult life putting bad men behind bars, believing in the sanctity of the badge, the purity of the law. Now, he was acting as a jailer to his own flesh and blood, protecting a syndicate of thieves within his own department.
"I'm coming home," Arthur said quietly, and hung up before she could reply. He slipped the unregistered pistol back into his holster, hidden beneath his uniform jacket, and shifted the car into drive.
