He quietly picked up the muddy library book and brushed dirt from its pages. Eric Nolan deliberately stepped on the family photograph before Marcus could reach it. The frame cracked beneath his boot. Marcus closed his eyes. It had been the last picture taken before his father died.

Nia felt anger tighten inside her chest. She forced herself to stay focused. The mission came first. Travis extended his hand again. The phone.

No. For the first time, the smile vanished completely. You're refusing a lawful request? I'm exercising my constitutional rights. Ryan looked toward the growing crowd gathering near the sidewalk.

You hear that? He called loudly. She's giving legal lessons now. A few people looked down. Others quietly walked away.

Nobody wanted to become the next target. Travis suddenly leaned close enough for only Nia to hear. You know what happens around here? No. We don't need permission to make someone's day miserable.

He stepped back. Ryan. Without warning, Ryan reached for Nia's jacket. She pivoted just enough to avoid his grip. The movement was smooth, controlled.

Years of defensive tactics hidden beneath ordinary clothing. Ryan blinked. Fast. Travis noticed it, too. Interesting.

Not normal. Nia immediately softened her posture, pretending the movement had been instinct rather than training. I don't want any trouble. Oh, Travis replied quietly. I think trouble already found you.

Across the street, Marcus finally spoke. Leave her alone. Every officer turned toward him. Ryan pointed. Looks like your boyfriend wants to help.

Marcus shook his head. She didn't do anything. Eric shoved him backward again. You don't get to speak. Marcus hit the park bench for a second time.

Several people gasped. Still, nobody intervened. Nia discreetly activated another feature on her phone. The screen appeared dark, but hidden beneath it, an encrypted emergency application silently began uploading every second of video to secure federal servers. No signal appeared, no notification, exactly as designed.

Travis never noticed. Instead, he nodded toward Dylan. Run her plate. Dylan walked toward the aging gray sedan parked nearby. He circled it once before laughing.

This thing barely runs. Ryan smirked. Figure. Dylan typed the license plate into his patrol computer. Seconds passed.

His smile slowly faded. Huh. What? The registration checks out. So, it belongs to her.

No warrants? Dylan frowned. Nothing. Ryan shrugged. We'll find something.

Kevin Ross shifted uneasily. Sergent. What? We don't actually have probable cause. The words hung in the air.

For a brief second, silence settled over the intersection. Travis slowly turned toward Kevin. What did you say? Kevin swallowed. I just meant Travis stepped closer.

I asked if we had probable cause. Kevin looked down. No, sir. Travis smiled. There you go.

Then, without taking his eyes off Kevin, he spoke loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear. Funny thing about probable cause. He finally looked back at Nia. Sometimes it introduces itself. At that exact moment, Ryan suddenly shouted, "She's deleting the video!"

He wasn't telling the truth, but the accusation was enough. Travis pointed directly at Nia. "Seize the phone." Ryan lunged. Nia stepped sideways, protecting the device with her body instead of striking back.

She could have disarmed him. She knew at least six different techniques that would have dropped him onto the pavement in seconds. Instead, she absorbed the impact. Ryan slammed into her shoulder. The phone slipped from her hand.

It bounced once across the concrete. Dylan grabbed it before she could. Got it. He held the phone high like a trophy. The crowd murmured nervously.

Travis nodded with satisfaction. There. Now we're getting somewhere. Nia stared at the phone. Months of planning, evidence, notes, contacts.

Everything appeared to be inside that device. Travis noticed the concern on her face and smiled. I knew it. You've got something to hide. He handed the phone to Dylan.

See what's on it. Dylan unlocked the screen. His expression changed almost immediately. This is weird. What?

There isn't much here. No contacts. Almost no photos. Only a few ordinary applications. Ryan frowned.

That's it? Nia remained perfectly still. Because that phone was never meant to hold evidence. It was a decoy. Every important file had already been transmitted through the encrypted application the instant Ryan first reached for her.

Unfortunately, Travis wasn't ready to give up. He looked from the nearly empty phone, Tonya, then toward her old gray sedan. A slow smile spread across his face. If the phone's clean, he pointed directly at the car. Let's search the vehicle.

Nia's heartbeat remained steady. But for the first time since arriving in Red Creek, she knew the situation was spiraling far faster than anyone at FBI headquarters had anticipated. The smile on Sergeant Travis Cole's face widened as he pointed toward the aging gray sedan. Search the vehicle. Officer Ryan Mercer cracked his knuckles.

Finally. Nia Brooks stepped forward just enough to stand between the officers and her car. I do not consent to any search. Travis chuckled. Good thing we weren't asking.

Several people standing near the convenience store exchanged nervous glances. They all knew what those words usually meant. Linda Foster quietly locked the front door of her store. Not to keep customers out. To keep trouble from coming in.

Across the street, Marcus Hill hugged his battered backpack against his chest. He wanted to help, but every bruise on his body reminded him exactly how powerless one person could feel against five armed officers. Kevin Ross shifted uncomfortably. "Sergeant." Travis didn't even look at him.

"What now? We still don't have probable cause." Ryan rolled his eyes. "There he goes again." Travis slowly turned toward Kevin.

"Tell me something." Kevin swallowed. "Yes, sir." "Who wears the badge around here?" Kevin hesitated.

"You do." "Exactly." The answer hung over the street like a warning. No one questioned Travis Cole, not if they wanted to keep wearing a uniform. Without another word, Ryan walked toward the sedan and pulled on the driver's side door handle.

Locked. Dylan Hayes leaned through the window. "Can't see much." Eric Nolan smirked. "Break the glass."

Nia's voice remained steady. "If you damage my property without legal authority, every one of you will answer for it." Ryan laughed. "You really think anyone's going to believe you over five officers?" A few people lowered their eyes.

That sentence carried an uncomfortable truth. For years, it had been exactly that simple. Five reports always outweighed one voice, unless someone had proof. Unknown to every officer standing there, proof was already traveling through encrypted federal servers hundreds of miles away. At FBI Atlanta Field Office, Supervisory Special Agent Daniel Carter stared at a bank of computer monitors inside the Joint Operations Center.

One screen suddenly flashed yellow. "Live secure transmission activated." Daniel straightened immediately. "Vanessa." Special Agent Vanessa Reed rolled her chair across the room.

"What do we have?" Daniel enlarged the incoming feed. The video showed shaky pavement for a moment before stabilizing. Then five familiar uniforms filled the screen. Vanessa's expression darkened.

They found her. "No." Daniel watched carefully. She let them find her. The room fell silent.

Analysts stopped typing. Every eye fixed on the live video. Daniel checked the encrypted metadata. The emergency upload triggered automatically, which means Nia believes she's about to lose physical control of the device. Vanessa reached for her headset.

Should we move now? Daniel didn't answer immediately. Instead, he watched Travis pointing toward the sedan. He had spent nearly 8 months building this case. One careless decision could allow dozens of corrupt officials to escape prosecution.