You knew she'd run. Silence. You know her? No. You expect me to believe that?
I don't care what you believe. The answer struck harder than any insult. Travis had spent years intimidating people into begging for mercy. This woman refused to play the part. He suddenly grabbed the front of her sweatshirt.
You think you're better than us? Nia looked down at his hand, then calmly back into his eyes. I think you're making another mistake. Ryan burst into laughter. "Sarge, she still thinks she's giving warnings."
Eric Nolan joined in. "Maybe jail will humble her." Kevin Ross didn't laugh. He couldn't. Every minute that passed made the situation look less like policing and more like kidnapping under color of law.
Lieutenant Scott Harper noticed Kevin's expression. "You've got something on your mind?" Kevin hesitated. "No, sir." "Good."
Harper leaned closer. "Because loyalty matters." Kevin nodded mechanically. But inside, he could still see Dylan Hayes trying to plant the small plastic packet beside Nia's car. He had ignored it once.
Could he ignore the next lie? Across the parking lot, Marcus Hill remained pinned against the hood of a patrol cruiser. His wrists had finally been cuffed. A streak of blood ran down his scraped forearm. Officer Eric Nolan tightened the cuffs another notch.
"They're too tight." Marcus winced. Eric smiled. "They'll fit better when you stop complaining." Marcus closed his eyes.
He remembered something his late father used to tell him. "Character isn't measured by how you treat powerful people. It's measured by how you treat the powerless." Looking around the parking lot, he realized almost no one there possessed any character at all, except the woman standing in handcuffs. She still looked strangely calm, almost hopeful.
That made no sense. Unless Marcus frowned. What did she know that no one else did? Meanwhile, several miles away, Linda Foster ran through the back streets clutching her purse against her chest. Her lungs burned.
She hadn't run like this in years. Behind her, distant sirens echoed through town. She ducked behind a brick church and pulled out her phone. Her fingers trembled as she dialed. One ring.
T' full. The call connected. Federal Bureau of Investigation. Linda almost burst into tears. "My name is Linda Foster."
She struggled to catch her breath. "I I have the video." The operator's tone changed instantly. "Ma'am, stay on the line." Within seconds, another voice came over the call.
Calm, controlled. This is special agent Vanessa Reed. Linda looked over her shoulder. I think the police are looking for me. They are.