Chapter 7
The rain began to pelt the asphalt in heavy, blinding sheets as Marcus and Sarah burst out of the burning house and sprinted toward the corner where the Internal Affairs SUV had been parked. The neighborhood street was completely deserted now, the terrified civilian onlookers driven indoors by the sudden downpour and the towering plumes of smoke.
Commander Hayes was already standing by the open door of the vehicle, his rain-soaked suit clinging to his broad shoulders. His face was pale, carved out of stone.
"Where is she?" Marcus demanded, skidding to a halt on the slick pavement.
Hayes stepped aside slowly, revealing the interior of the back seat. The heavy-duty bulletproof partition was completely blown outward, warped by an industrial-grade thermal charge that had melted the metal locks from the inside. The rear door hung loosely off its hinges, swaying gently in the wind.
"There was no forced entry from the outside," Hayes said, his voice dangerously low. "The charges were placed from the front cabin. Someone inside the vehicle punched the override code."
Sarah inspected the charred control panel near the driver’s seat, running a gloved finger over the scorched circuitry. "It wasn't an override. It was a factory-installed backdoor. Every single vehicle in this precinct’s tactical fleet shares the same master override frequency. Anyone with a standard technician's diagnostic tool could pop these doors in three seconds."
Marcus felt the blood rush to his ears. "Which means the driver knew. Who was behind the wheel when they took her?"
Hayes closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, a rare display of vulnerability from the hardened commander. "Officer Davis. He’s been on the force for twenty years. Clean record, exemplary commendations, scheduled to retire next month."
"Where is he now?" Sarah pressed, unlatching her tactical belt to ensure her extra magazines were secured.
"We found his cruiser abandoned three blocks away," Hayes replied, turning to face them squarely. "He’s gone, too. And he left his badge and gun neatly folded on the passenger seat, sitting right on top of a sealed manila envelope."
Hayes reached inside his coat and pulled out a damp, plastic-wrapped envelope, handing it directly to Marcus.
May you like
Marcus tore the plastic open and pulled out a single sheet of heavy cardstock paper. Handwritten in block letters were coordinates pointing deep into the industrial sector by the old railway yards, along with a chilling handwritten postscript:
Bring the federal folder, or the girl dies with the truth.
