Chapter 11 - THE STORAGE UNIT
The trace failed.
Christine had been using a prepaid phone routed through a temporary data service.
The last cell tower placed her somewhere within a four-mile radius of the northern industrial district.
Four miles contained warehouses, motels, truck yards, empty office parks, and half a dozen roads leading out of the county.
Raymond could disappear in any direction.
Detective Shaw wanted to send officers everywhere.
Mason wanted her to send almost no one.
They argued in low voices outside Jake's room.
"If Bluebird exists, the larger the response, the faster Raymond hears about it," Mason said.
"If I don't deploy officers and she's being held somewhere, I lose time."
"Then deploy people you trust."
"I do not know who I trust yet."
That sentence silenced both of them.
I stood between two worlds again.
The world of procedure.
The world of suspicion.
Both had rules.
Neither could guarantee Christine survived the night.
"The storage unit," I said.
Shaw looked at me.
"What about it?"
"Raymond knows it exists."
"Yes."
"Christine said she left a copy there."
"Yes."
"So Raymond may go there next."
Mason shook his head.
"Too obvious."
"Unless he thinks the call was interrupted before she told us."
Shaw considered that.
"He may not know we heard the location."
"Exactly."
Mason looked at me.
"Still obvious."
"Then don't send a convoy."
Shaw folded her arms.
"You are not going."
"I didn't ask to."
"Good."
"Send Perez."
Perez looked surprised.
"Why me?"
"Because Christine met you tonight."
"And?"
"She watched you push back on her story."
Perez understood.
"If she left anything meant for police, she might have anticipated me."
Shaw nodded slowly.
"You take one unmarked car."
"Backup?"
"Captain Ross personally chooses one detective from another division."
Mason added,
"No radio until you're clear."
Shaw gave him a look.
"You do not issue orders in my investigation."
"Suggestion."
"Then suggest less confidently."
Perez almost smiled.
Twenty minutes later, she left.
I stayed with Jake.
That was becoming my hardest discipline.
Stay.
Do not chase.
Do not fix everything yourself.
Be the father first.
Jake woke around four.
His headache was worse.
The nurse gave him medication and dimmed the room again.
He watched me sit beside him.
"Where's Mom?"
The question had been coming.
I could not lie.
"I don't know right now."
His eyes filled with fear.
"Did Grandpa hurt her?"
"We don't know that either."
"But maybe?"
I took his hand.
"The police are looking for her."
"Because she did something bad?"
I breathed slowly.
"Because some things happened that she needs to explain."
"Is she going to jail?"
"I don't know."
Jake turned his face away.
A tear slid down the uninjured cheek.
"I don't want her to go to jail."
"I know."
"Even if she didn't help me."
That sentence nearly broke me again.
I moved closer.
"You can love someone and still be hurt by what they did."
He looked at me.
"Can you?"
I thought of Christine.
The coffee shop.
The letters.
Her standing in the garage while Jake screamed.
Her voice on the phone saying she failed him.
"Yeah," I said.
"You can."
Jake considered that.
"Do you still love Mom?"
I looked at my son and realized there was no safe answer.
Only an honest one he could carry.
"Part of me does."
"What about the other part?"
"The other part is very angry."
He nodded like that made perfect sense.
"Me too."
We sat quietly for a while.
Then he said,
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Grandpa told Mom she had to choose before you came."
I turned toward him.
"Choose what?"
"I don't know."
"Did he say between who?"
Jake frowned.
"He said, 'Him or the boy.'"
My heartbeat changed.
"Him?"
"I think you."
Raymond had forced Christine into a choice between me and Jake.
Or made her believe he had.
"What did Mom say?"
"She said no."
"No what?"
"Just no."
"Then?"
"Grandpa said, 'Then I choose for you.'"
A chill moved through me.
That might have been the moment everything became violent.
Jake had not simply interrupted Raymond.
He had walked into a confrontation already at the breaking point.
"Did you see the red tablet before or after that?"
"After."
"How?"
"Mom threw it."
I stared at him.
"She threw it?"
"At Grandpa."
That was new.
"Did it hit him?"
"No. It hit the wall."
"Then you picked it up?"
Jake nodded.
"It turned on."
The sequence finally made sense.
Christine had been fighting Raymond.
The tablet became exposed.
Jake picked it up.
Raymond panicked.
The assault followed.
It did not absolve Christine for what happened next.
But it changed what happened before.
My phone vibrated.
Perez.
I stepped into the hall and answered.
"We're at the unit."
"Anything?"
"Door is locked. No visible disturbance."
"Code work?"
"Yes."
I heard metal rolling upward.
Then silence.
"Perez?"
"Hold."
I waited.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty.
"Perez."
Her voice came back quieter.
"There's a green toolbox."
"Open it."
"We need to photograph first."
I shut my eyes.
Procedure.
Always procedure.
"Right."
Another minute passed.
Then she said,
"Toolbox is open."
"Tablet?"
"No."
My stomach dropped.
"What's inside?"
"A flash drive."
"Anything else?"
Perez inhaled.
"A note."
"From Christine?"
"Looks like her handwriting."
"What does it say?"
Paper rustled.
Then Perez read it aloud.
"If Michael gets this, tell him I am sorry I made him doubt every good day we ever had."
I leaned against the wall.
She continued.
"Tell Jake I saw him run and I should have run after him."
My throat closed.
"There's more," Perez said.
"Read it."
"Raymond has someone inside the department. I don't know the name. Bluebird is not a person. It's a file."
I straightened.
"A file?"
"That's what it says."
Perez kept reading.
"The file contains payments to police, judges, contractors, and two federal agents. Dad kept it because he never trusted anyone he paid."
Mason, standing beside me, went still.
"What else?"
"It says the flash drive is encrypted."
"Password?"
"She wrote one clue."
"What?"
Perez read the final line.
"The day Michael stopped being the man Dad feared."
I knew immediately.
Mason did too.
The date I resigned.
The day I walked away from the task group.
The day I chose a normal life.
We gave Perez the date.
She handed the drive to the digital investigator with her.
Five minutes later, he called back.
Password accepted.
Files opened.
The first folder contained financial ledgers.
The second contained photographs.
The third was labeled BLUEBIRD.
Inside were names.
Hundreds of payments.
Dates.
Accounts.
One recipient worked for the local police department.
Detective Shaw demanded the name.
Perez went silent.
Then she said,
"Laura..."
Shaw's face tightened.
"Who?"
Perez swallowed.
"Captain Ross."
May you like
The man Shaw had just trusted to choose their backup.
