Chapter 4 - The Secret Behind the Warehouse Call
By the time I reached my street, eight police vehicles surrounded the house.
I jumped from Laura's car before it fully stopped.
“Daniel!”
I ignored her.
The front door stood open.
One pane beside it was shattered.
I ran inside.
“Claire!”
“Dad!”
Emily rushed from the hallway.
I grabbed her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded against my chest.
Claire emerged behind Officer Ramirez.
I crossed the room and held both of them.
“What happened?”
“The glass broke,” Claire said. “Then someone tried the back door.”
“Did you see him?”
“No.”
“Anybody get inside?”
Ramirez shook his head.
“Patrol scared him off. We found footprints near the fence.”
Emily stared at me.
“Why does somebody want to hurt us?”
There are questions parents aren't prepared to answer.
That was one of them.
“I don't know.”
“But you're a policeman.”
“Yes.”
“So find out.”
Claire looked at me over her head.
There was no anger in her face.
Only fear.
And something worse.
Expectation.
She believed I could fix this.
I'd spent my adult life telling people police work had limits.
Now those limits were inside my own house.
We moved Claire and Emily to a secure department residence while the investigation continued.
I returned to Leo that evening.
He was awake.
Weak.
But awake.
The moment I entered, he tried to lift his head.
“Easy.”
I sat beside him.
His eyes traveled over me.
“You're checking me?”
His tail tapped once.
“Family's okay.”
Another tap.
“You ridiculous animal.”
I placed Emily's tennis ball near his paw.
“You almost got yourself killed.”
Leo closed his eyes.
I rested my forehead against the edge of the kennel.
“So did I.”
When Laura arrived, she carried a folder.
“We may know what the caller meant.”
“Which caller?”
“The man who told you you'd touched his family.”
I looked up.
“We reviewed everyone connected to Darren Cole's case.”
“And?”
“There was a man named Travis Voss.”
I remembered the name.
Midlevel drug courier.
Arrested after Leo located narcotics in his vehicle.
“He went to prison.”
“Yes. Died there four months ago.”
“From?”
“Assault.”
“So?”
“His older brother is Aaron Voss.”
The name meant nothing.
Laura showed me a photograph.
Forty-three.
Former private military contractor.
Security consultant.
Weapons instructor.
My stomach tightened.
“That's not our warehouse shooter?”
“We don't know.”
“What does he want with me?”
“Travis wrote letters from prison.”
“To his brother?”
“Yes.”
Laura opened the file.
Travis blamed me for his conviction.
More specifically, he blamed Leo.
According to him, if the dog hadn't alerted on his truck, police would never have found the narcotics that tied him to Cole's network.
“That's insane.”
“I didn't say it was rational.”
“So his brother wants revenge?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“Aaron visited Travis three weeks before he died. Prison recordings show Travis told him somebody inside the police department had deliberately sacrificed him.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Travis believed he'd been promised protection.”
“By whom?”
“He never used a name.”
We both knew what that meant.
The internal corruption theory.
Someone inside law enforcement had protected Darren Cole's organization.
Maybe Travis Voss had known who.
“Why would that person want me dead?”
Laura leaned against the wall.
“Because after the storage facility search, Internal Affairs started reviewing dozens of old evidence records.”
“I didn't start that.”
“No. But your K-9 alert created the case that did.”
I looked toward Leo.
He was breathing slowly.
The dog had done exactly what he was trained to do.
Find what humans tried to hide.
And apparently, he'd found something large enough to scare people years later.
“What was missing?”
“Evidence.”
“How much?”
“Drugs. Cash. Firearms.”
“Who signed them out?”
“Several officers over several years.”
“Which officer appears most often?”
Laura didn't answer.
I already knew.
“Marcus Hale.”
She exhaled.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“Daniel—”
“No. Marcus is sloppy with paperwork sometimes, but—”
“Eleven discrepancies have his authorization.”
“That doesn't make him corrupt.”
“Agreed.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Because one of the untracked administrative sedans was signed out yesterday.”
My chest tightened.
“By Marcus?”
“No.”
I waited.
“By someone using his access credentials.”
That was somehow worse.
“Where is Hale?”
“Missing.”
I stood.
“Since when?”
“He left headquarters twenty minutes after your shooting. Hasn't answered calls.”
My thoughts accelerated.
“Maybe he's running.”
“Maybe.”
“Or maybe someone used his credentials and made him disappear.”
Laura didn't respond.
I grabbed my jacket.
“Where are you going?”
“Finding Marcus.”
“No.”
“He's my friend.”
“He's also a potential suspect.”
“And if he's not?”
“Then Major Crimes will locate him.”
“You've had almost a day.”
“And we don't need an injured officer contaminating the investigation.”
“I wasn't shot.”
“You were nearly shot twice and then threatened.”
“That's not an injury.”
Laura stared at me.
“You police officers are impossible.”
“You are a police officer.”
“Exactly.”
I stayed.
Barely.
At 11:40 p.m., Leo's condition improved enough for Dr. Stanton to reduce sedation.
He drank water.
He even tried standing.
His rear legs failed.
I caught him.
“Easy.”
He looked embarrassed.
If you've never seen a German Shepherd look embarrassed, you've never known one well enough.
“You got shot twice, tough guy. You're allowed a bad day.”
Dr. Stanton smiled.
“His neurological response looks good.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I'm cautiously optimistic he'll walk normally.”
Relief washed through me.
“When can he go home?”
She laughed.
“Let's get through tonight.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Again.
I showed Laura before opening the message.
One photograph loaded.
Marcus Hale.
He was sitting in what looked like a basement.
Hands tied.
Blood on his forehead.
A piece of cardboard hung from his neck.
Three words were written on it.
ASK YOUR PARTNER.
Laura stared.
“What partner?”
I looked toward Leo.
Impossible.
Then another message arrived.
NOT THE DOG.
The room went cold.
Police officers use the word partner loosely.
Patrol partner.
K-9 partner.
Business partner.
Someone who has your back.
For five years before I joined K-9, I'd shared a cruiser with one man.
Marcus Hale.
We'd answered domestic calls together.
Chased suspects together.
Been shot at together.
He was the first person besides Claire to hold Emily after she was born.
If someone wanted me to ask my partner, there was only one meaning left.
Marcus knew something.
Laura immediately started tracing the image.
Then my phone rang.
This time it wasn't blocked.
Marcus Hale's number.
Laura signaled technicians.
I answered.
“Marcus?”
Breathing.
Then:
“Danny.”
His voice was weak.
“Where are you?”
“I screwed up.”
“We'll talk about that later. Tell me where you are.”
“I didn't know they'd come after you.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“I thought it was money.”
“What was money?”
“I helped them move evidence.”
Laura's eyes sharpened.
“Marcus, stay with me.”
“I never hurt anybody.”
“You helped Darren Cole?”
“At first, no. It started before him.”
“What started?”
“Evidence transfers. Cash. Drugs scheduled for destruction. I'd change numbers, sign forms, make things disappear.”
I closed my eyes.
My friend.
My daughter's Uncle Marcus.
“How long?”
“Eight years.”
“Why?”
“My gambling debt.”
The answer was almost pathetic in its simplicity.
“One favor became another.”
“Did you send me to Mercer?”
Silence.
“Marcus.”
“I approved the dispatch.”
Claire's face flashed through my mind.
Emily.
Leo bleeding in the rain.
“You knew.”
“I didn't know they were going to shoot you.”
“You changed my district.”
“They told me they needed Leo brought to that warehouse.”
“Why?”
“I thought they wanted him to search something.”
“You believed armed criminals wanted a police K-9 to search their warehouse?”
“I wasn't thinking.”
“No. You were thinking about yourself.”
Marcus started crying.
“They have my son, Danny.”
That stopped me.
Marcus had a sixteen-year-old son named Tyler.
“They took him yesterday.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Who has you?”
“Aaron Voss.”
Laura mouthed instructions to keep him talking.
“Marcus, listen. Where are you?”
“I don't know. Basement. Industrial area. I can hear trains.”
“Anything else?”
“Smells like oil.”
Laura scribbled notes.
“Why does Voss want me dead?”
“He thinks you killed Travis.”
“I arrested Travis.”
“He doesn't care.”
“And the corruption ring?”
Marcus breathed heavily.
“Voss found records Travis kept.”
“What records?”
“Names.”
“Whose names?”
There was a sound in the background.
A door opening.
Marcus whispered quickly.
“Danny, the person running this isn't Voss.”
My pulse jumped.
“Who?”
“He's coming.”
“Marcus, give me the name.”
A second voice appeared faintly.
Marcus started speaking faster.
“The person who ordered Mercer works inside—”
A crack.
Marcus cried out.
The line went dead.
“Marcus!”
Nothing.
Laura was already running toward the door.
“Trace?”
A technician shouted from the hallway.
“We got a partial location!”
“Where?”
“Industrial corridor south of River Street.”
I looked at Leo.
Then at Laura.
“You're staying here.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“They have Marcus and his kid.”
“And they want you specifically.”
“Which means I might be the only person who gets them out.”
Laura swore under her breath.
Before she could stop me, another message appeared on my phone.
An address.
And beneath it:
COME ALONE OR THE BOY DIES.
Then a second sentence.
AND DON'T BRING THE DOG THIS TIME.
I looked through the glass at Leo.
His head had risen.
His eyes were fixed on me.
For six years, whenever danger came, he had followed.
May you like
But tonight, Leo couldn't stand without help.
Which meant for the first time since we became partners, I was about to walk directly toward danger without him.
