Chapter 5 - The Betrayal Within
The cruiser's engine roared as Daniel slammed his foot down on the accelerator, cutting across traffic with sirens blaring and emergency lights flashing. His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned chalk-white. *Marcus. Trusted partner of six years. The man who had shared coffee at his kitchen table, who had played catch with Claire when she was in high school.* It was a betrayal so profound it tasted like copper in his mouth.
He grabbed his department radio, bypassing standard dispatch to patch directly into the secure tactical channel. "Control, this is Sergeant Mercer. I need an immediate status check on Detective Marcus Vance. Where is his unit right now?"
A crackle of static filled the cab before dispatch replied. *‘Sergeant Mercer, Unit 42's GPS transponder shows Detective Vance checked out of the precinct twenty minutes ago. His last known ping was near the residential district on Oakridge Avenue.’*
Oakridge Avenue. That was two blocks away from Claire's apartment building.
"Damn it!" Daniel cursed, hauling the wheel hard to the left, tires screeching against the asphalt as the cruiser fishtailed before straightening out down the boulevard. He reached for his cell phone, punching Claire's number on speed dial. It rang once. Twice. Three times.
*‘Pick up, Claire. Please God, pick up,’* he muttered under his breath.
On the fourth ring, a click sounded, but instead of Claire's bright voice, a low, smooth, chillingly familiar voice answered.
"Looking for someone, Dan?" Marcus Vance's voice purred through the speaker.
Daniel's blood ran cold. "Marcus! Where is my daughter? If you've laid a finger on her—"
"Relax, Sergeant. Claire is right here in the passenger seat, enjoying a lovely morning drive with her favorite uncle Marcus," Marcus interrupted smoothly, the sound of a turn signal clicking in the background. "She's unharmed, for now. But if you want to keep it that way, you're going to turn that cruiser around, head out toward Pier 14, and drop your service weapon into the river off the old loading crane. No backup, no dispatch tricks, or the next call you get will be from the county morgue."
"Marcus, you're throwing away a twenty-year career for a psychopathic grifter like Lorraine! Think about what you're doing!" Daniel yelled into the phone, his voice cracking with paternal panic.
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"Career?" Marcus laughed bitterly, a dark, cynical sound. "Dan, the pension doesn't even cover a decent retirement home in Florida. Lorraine showed me how the real game is played. Now, do we have a deal, or do I need to prove I'm serious?"
Before Daniel could reply, the line clicked dead. He looked at the dashboard clock. He had less than fifteen minutes to reach Pier 14—and no idea what kind of trap awaited him in the shadows of the abandoned industrial docks.
