CHAPTER 4 The Man Inside the Police Department
For a moment, I thought I was hallucinating.
Blood ran into my left eye, blurring my vision, but there was no mistaking the face disappearing into the alley.
Officer Daniel Pierce.
The young patrol officer who had greeted me with a sympathetic smile only hours earlier.
The man who had offered Louisa a juice box while Detective Mason reviewed the security footage.
The same officer who now fled the scene of a deliberate crash.
"He... he works for the police..." I whispered.
Detective Mason heard me immediately.
"What did you say?"
"The driver..."
"It was Officer Pierce."
Mason's expression froze.
"That's impossible."
"I know what I saw."
Before he could answer, another officer sprinted toward him.
"Sir! He's gone!"
Mason clenched his jaw.
"Seal every exit within five miles."
"Already done."
"Then notify Internal Affairs."
The officer hesitated.
"And the FBI?"
Mason looked at Rebecca Sloan.
"You make that call."
Rebecca didn't answer.
She was already speaking rapidly into her encrypted radio.
Two Hours Later
Louisa and I were taken to Riverside Methodist Hospital.
The doctors cleaned the cut above my eyebrow and confirmed I had only a mild concussion.
Louisa had escaped with a bruised shoulder and a few tiny cuts from flying glass.
Physically, we were lucky.
Emotionally...
I wasn't sure either of us would ever be the same.
As a nurse gently changed the bandage on Louisa's head, my daughter looked up at me with wide, frightened eyes.
"Mommy..."
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Did Grandma hate my hair?"
The question shattered something inside me.
I struggled to keep my voice steady.
"No, baby."
"Then why did she cut it?"
I couldn't answer.
How do you explain cruelty to a three-year-old?
How do you tell a child that some adults enjoy power more than kindness?
I kissed her forehead instead.
"None of this was your fault."
She nodded slowly.
"I know."
Then she whispered something that made my heart stop.
"I heard Grandpa talking."
"When?"
"The night before."
"What did he say?"
Louisa frowned, trying to remember.
"He said..."
She closed her eyes.
"'The little one saw too much.'"
Rebecca and Detective Mason exchanged a sharp glance.
"What else did he say?" Rebecca asked gently.
Louisa squeezed her stuffed bunny.
"There was another man."
"The one who smelled funny."
"Funny?"
"Like gasoline."
Victor.
The stranger from the security footage.
Louisa continued.
"Grandpa said..."
She spoke slowly, repeating the words exactly as she'd heard them.
"'If the girl remembers his face, we'll have another problem.'"
The room fell silent.
Rebecca quietly switched on a recorder.
"Emily..."
"I don't think the bracelet was ever the reason they targeted Louisa."
A terrible realization washed over me.
No.
It hadn't.
The shaving...
The accusations...
The humiliation...
They hadn't been punishment.
They had been intimidation.
Louisa had seen something.
Something Walter believed she might remember.
The Storage Locker
That afternoon, Detective Mason returned carrying a thick evidence folder.
"We searched Walter's house."
My heart raced.
"What did you find?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"The passports are gone."
"So is the bracelet."
"The duffel bags."
"The paperwork."
"Everything."
Rebecca frowned.
"How long after the crash did the warrant team arrive?"
"Forty-three minutes."
She muttered under her breath.
"Enough time."
"Enough time for what?"
"For someone inside the department to warn them."
Everyone in the room knew exactly who that someone probably was.
Officer Pierce.
But suspicion wasn't enough.
They needed proof.
Mason flipped to another page.
"However..."
He slid a photograph across the table.
A rental agreement.
Storage Unit 417.
On the edge of Columbus.
Signed three months earlier.
The renter's name wasn't Walter.
It wasn't Lydia.
It wasn't Heather.
It was...
Elmer Carter.
I stared at the signature.
"No."
Rebecca looked at me carefully.
"You recognize it?"
"It's my husband's handwriting."
The signature was unmistakable.
Every birthday card.
Every tax return.
Every anniversary note.
It was his.
"He never mentioned renting a storage unit."
Mason nodded.
"That's exactly why we're interested."
Elmer Calls
As if on cue, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Rebecca gestured for me to answer.
She silently pressed Record.
"Emily?"
Elmer's voice sounded exhausted.
"Where are you?"
"I can't tell you."
"I've been trying to find you all day."
"I know."
"I've talked to Mom."
My stomach tightened.
"What did she say?"
"She said you've lost control."
I almost laughed.
"Did she tell you your father hit me?"
Silence.
"Elmer?"
"He said you slapped him first."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Another lie.
"They shaved our daughter's head."
"I saw the pictures."
"And?"
"They said it was an accident."
I gripped the phone so tightly my fingers hurt.
"An accident?"
"They were trying to cut gum out of her hair."
Rebecca buried her face in one hand.
Even Detective Mason looked disgusted.
"They're lying."
"I don't know who to believe anymore."
I took a slow breath.
"Believe this."
I opened the security app and sent him a thirty-second clip.
Not everything.
Just enough.
Heather placing Lydia's bracelet into Louisa's tiny hands.
Five seconds later...
My phone remained silent.
Then I heard Elmer inhale sharply.
"What..."
"What is this?"
"The truth."
Another long silence.
Finally he whispered,
"Mom said that footage didn't exist."
"It does."
"I..."
His voice cracked.
"I need to see everything."
Rebecca quickly wrote a note and held it in front of me.
Agree. Don't reveal location.
"Fine," I said.
"Where are you?"
"I can meet tonight."
"No."
"You choose the place."
He hesitated.
Then answered.
"Old Franklin Bridge."
"Eight o'clock."
The call ended.
Rebecca looked at Mason.
"It could be a trap."
Mason nodded.
"Or our best chance."
A Secret in the Evidence
While agents prepared surveillance for the meeting, Rebecca continued reviewing the security footage frame by frame.
Suddenly she paused.
"Wait."
She zoomed in on the stranger's duffel bag.
Not the logo.
The zipper.
Something small was caught beneath it.
A key tag.
She enlarged the image again.
The resolution was terrible.
But one number became visible.
417.
Storage Unit 417.
The same unit rented under Elmer's name.
Rebecca looked up slowly.
"I don't think Walter owns that storage locker."
"What do you mean?"
"I think Victor does."
"And Elmer's identity..."
She didn't finish.
She didn't have to.
Someone had rented the unit using my husband's name.
Either Elmer was involved...
Or someone had been using his identity without him knowing.
The distinction could mean the difference between guilt and innocence.
Cliffhanger
At 7:45 p.m., an undercover FBI team surrounded Old Franklin Bridge.
Snipers took positions.
Unmarked vehicles blended into evening traffic.
Rebecca adjusted her earpiece.
"Everyone ready?"
A chorus of confirmations came through the radio.
At exactly eight o'clock...
A white pickup truck rolled onto the bridge.
Elmer stepped out.
He was alone.
Or so it appeared.
He looked thinner than I remembered.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He scanned the darkness desperately.
"Emily?"
No one answered.
Then another vehicle approached from the opposite side.
A black sedan.
It stopped twenty yards behind Elmer.
The driver's door opened.
Walter climbed out.
He wasn't supposed to know about the meeting.
He smiled at his son.
May you like
Then calmly raised a handgun.
And aimed it directly at the back of Elmer's head.
