Chapter 7
Detective Elena Reyes parked her unmarked cruiser three blocks away from her modest suburban home, killing the headlights long before she pulled up to the curb. She sat in the silent darkness of the cabin, checking her rearview mirror three times. The streets were quiet, lined with trimmed hedges and sleeping houses, but her instincts screamed that she was being watched.
She slipped out of the car, her hand resting comfortably on the grip of her service weapon holstered beneath her jacket. Walking up the concrete pathway, she noticed the front porch light was off—a pre-arranged signal with her daughter, Sarah, indicating danger.
Elena’s heart skipped a beat. She drew her weapon, keeping close to the brick exterior of the house as she crept toward the side window. Peering inside, she saw the living room lamps casting a soft, amber glow across the carpet. Sarah was sitting on the sofa, her posture rigid, her laptop open on her knees. Standing by the kitchen counter was a man in civilian clothes, his back to the window, holding a cup of water.
It wasn't a burglar. It was Lieutenant Miller.
Elena’s blood ran cold. Miller had no business being at her private residence, especially with her daughter inside. She holstered her weapon, pulled her master key from her pocket, and unlocked the front door with practiced, silent stealth, pushing it open just enough to slip inside without a sound.
"...just need the external hard drive, Sarah," Miller was saying, his voice uncomfortably conversational as he leaned against the kitchen island. "Your mother has been doing some very reckless research. You don't want your college tuition funding tied up in an internal affairs tribunal, do you?"
Sarah’s face was pale, but her voice was remarkably steady as she looked up at the corrupt lieutenant. "My mother works for the people. You work for whoever pays your pension off the books."
Miller’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly flash of irritation. He took a step toward the couch, reaching out to slam the laptop shut. "Don't play the martyr, kid. Give me the drive, and we walk away clean."
"Step away from my daughter," Elena’s voice cut through the quiet room like a razor blade.
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Miller spun around, his hand instinctively dropping toward his hip holster, but Elena was already there, her service weapon leveled squarely at the center of his chest with unshakeable, terrifying precision.
"Drop it, Miller," Elena whispered, the fury in her eyes burning brighter than any weapon in the room.
