Chapter 12 - The Warehouse
The line filled with a crash.
Rebecca screamed.
Then the call went dead.
“Track it,” Torres ordered.
Hospital security moved Henry to a protected room while two uniformed officers stayed outside. Nathan arrived ten minutes later, breathless and furious that no one had told him sooner.
I grabbed his jacket before he reached the bed.
“If you are part of this—”
“I’m not.”
His eyes went past me to Henry.
The anger drained out of him.
“Oh, kiddo.”
Henry reached for him.
That small gesture did more for Nathan’s innocence in my mind than any speech could have.
Torres interrupted.
“We have a location.”
Victor’s phone had pinged near an abandoned freight warehouse twenty minutes from the hospital.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
“It also wasn’t smart.”
“My son is safe here. Rebecca may know what happened to my wife.”
Torres stared at me for a long second.
“Stay behind us.”
The warehouse sat beside an old rail yard, windows broken, loading bays rusted shut.
Police entered from three sides.
I waited behind an unmarked SUV with Lena until Torres signaled.
Inside, we found Victor first.
He was bleeding from the forehead, one wrist tied to a pipe with electrical cord.
“Where is Rebecca?” Torres asked.
“Caleb took her.”
“Where?”
Victor shook his head.
“He wanted a flash drive.”
“What flash drive?” I asked.
Victor looked at me as if seeing a ghost.
“Sarah’s.”
I stepped closer.
“My wife had a flash drive?”
“She gave it to me three days before she died.”
My vision narrowed.
“You worked security for my father. Why would Sarah trust you?”
“Because she didn’t trust Caleb.”
“You were fired for stealing.”
Victor gave a bitter laugh.
“That was Caleb’s story.”
Torres cut in. “Where is the drive?”
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
Victor looked at me.
“In the one place Sarah said Caleb would never search.”
“My house?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“Her grave.”
The warehouse seemed to go silent.
Victor continued.
“She said if anything happened to her, Ethan would eventually go there alone.”
I felt sick.
“I go there every month.”
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t I find it?”
“Because you weren’t supposed to dig.”
Torres’s radio crackled.
An officer shouted from outside that they had found Rebecca’s car.
The driver’s door was open.
Blood covered the seat.
May you like
And on the windshield, written with one finger, were two words:
BLUE ANGEL.
