Hayes stopped walking the moment he saw them, and even through layers of glass and distance, Maya could see panic take over his face. One of the suited men pointed directly toward the Porsche. The second man said something short and firm. Hayes immediately shook his head too aggressively, while Tyler looked like he might faint.
Maya slowly leaned forward in the backseat despite the cuffs biting into her wrists. Inside the showroom, the atmosphere had transformed completely. Employees who had laughed minutes ago now looked terrified. Customers were pulling out phones again; someone began recording openly.
Then Hayes spun around sharply and stormed back outside toward the patrol car. He moved too fast for a man still pretending everything was routine.
The moment he yanked open the rear door, Maya could feel the panic coming off him stronger than the smell of coffee on her coat. "We're leaving," he snapped.
Officer Collins frowned. "Sergeant, those men inside said they're with federal—"
"I know who they are!"
"Then maybe we should wait—"
Hayes slammed the door hard enough to shake the entire vehicle. "Drive!"
Collins did not move for several long seconds. Nobody spoke. Then Maya quietly said the one thing Hayes clearly did not want to hear: "They found out about the car, didn't they?"
Hayes turned slowly toward the backseat. His face had gone pale. And for the first time since this nightmare began, Maya realized something important: Sergeant Daniel Hayes was no longer in control.
Sergeant Daniel Hayes stood beside the open patrol car door, staring at Maya like a man watching his own secrets rise from the grave. The confidence that had fueled his cruelty inside the showroom was gone now. Sweat darkened the collar of his uniform despite the cooling Atlanta evening settling over Buckhead.
"They found out about the car, didn't they?" Maya repeated quietly.
Hayes' jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"No," Maya replied, keeping her eyes fixed on him. "But you do."
Officer Collins remained frozen behind the wheel. The tension inside the cruiser had become suffocating. Through the dealership windows, silhouettes moved quickly beneath the bright showroom lights. Federal agents were now speaking with employees near the Porsche while nervous customers filmed everything from a distance.
Hayes slammed the rear door shut hard enough to rattle the glass, then leaned down toward Collins' open window. "Drive the car," he ordered sharply. "Now."
Collins hesitated. "Sergeant, if federal agents are involved, shouldn't we stay on scene?"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"But if they ask where the suspect went—"
Hayes cut him off instantly: "You let me worry about that."
Maya watched Collins carefully. The younger officer looked trapped between fear of disobeying a superior and fear of becoming involved in something far worse.
Then Hayes' radio crackled: "Unit 12, hold position at Prestige European Motors. Federal investigators requesting all responding officers remain on site."
The voice coming through dispatch sounded calm; Hayes did not. His hand tightened around the radio so hard his knuckles whitened.
"Negative," he replied immediately. "Transporting suspect downtown."
A pause followed before dispatch answered again: "Federal agents are specifically requesting Sergeant Hayes remain at the dealership."
Maya saw it happen in real time: panic, pure panic. Hayes turned away from the cruiser and lowered his voice, but not enough to stop Maya from hearing pieces of it.
"They don't have a warrant for the vehicle yet... No, listen to me. If they open that panel before I get back—" He stopped suddenly after realizing Collins was watching him through the side mirror.
Hayes snapped the radio off completely. That terrified Maya more than anything else so far. Good officers followed procedure; desperate men silenced it.
Inside the dealership, movement intensified. One federal agent now stood beside the Porsche speaking directly to Richard Holloway, the gray-haired CEO of Prestige Motors, who had apparently rushed back into the showroom moments earlier. Employees clustered together, whispering nervously near the espresso bar where Maya's humiliation had started less than an hour ago. The same customers who had laughed at her now looked frightened to even be there.
Hayes opened the front passenger door and climbed into the cruiser beside Collins. "Drive," he said again, lower this time, but far more dangerous.
Collins swallowed hard. "Where?"
"Warehouse district, south of downtown."
That answer made Maya's stomach tighten. A police station would have made sense; a warehouse district did not.
Even Collins looked alarmed now. "Sergeant, why would we—"
"Because I said so!"
The engine started reluctantly. As the cruiser pulled away from the curb, Maya turned her head for one last look at the Porsche glowing beneath the showroom lights. Federal agents were now circling the vehicle slowly, studying it like surgeons preparing for an operation.
Hayes noticed where she was looking. "You should have stayed out of this."
Maya met his eyes through the metal divider. "I didn't walk into your corruption. You dragged me into it."
His face hardened instantly. "You think you're smart because you built some little tech company. You have no idea how this city works."
"Then explain it to me."
Hayes laughed bitterly and leaned back in his seat. "Atlanta runs on deals people like you never see: politicians, cops, developers, banks. Everybody protects everybody."
"And Victor Salazar?"
That name hit him like a knife. Collins glanced sideways immediately. Hayes turned slowly toward the backseat. "Where did you hear that name?"
Maya held his stare. "You reacted too fast when federal agents showed up. Men only panic like that when they already know what's hidden."
Silence filled the cruiser. Outside, Buckhead's polished storefronts slowly gave way to older buildings and darker streets as they headed south toward downtown Atlanta. Neon signs flickered above closed barbershops and liquor stores while traffic thickened around evening commuters.
Finally, Hayes spoke again, but this time his voice sounded tired instead of angry. "Victor Salazar laundered money through luxury dealerships all over the southeast," he admitted quietly. "Cars, art, real estate. Millions disappeared through shell companies before anybody noticed."
"And the Porsche?"
Hayes looked out the windshield. "That car was never supposed to be sold."
Collins tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Maya leaned forward despite the cuffs. "What's inside it?"
Hayes didn't answer immediately. The city lights reflected across his face as if he were aging by the second.
Then his phone rang. He looked at the screen and immediately cursed under his breath before answering: "What?"
Even through the muffled speaker, Maya could hear a woman shouting on the other end. Hayes' expression darkened further.
"No, you listen to me! Stall them!"
Another burst of yelling.
"I don't care what Holloway wants! Do not let federal agents near that car until I get there!"