"Now they attack God's house." Marta stepped closer to Alena, speaking low. This changes the timeline. We need to move faster. Agreed.
Alana watched as more congregation members arrived. Their faces a mixture of anger and determination. Some carried brooms and dust pans already moving to help clean up. They're escalating, getting sloppy. And giving us more evidence, Marta added.
She pulled out her phone, thumbs flying across the screen. I'm expediting those warrant requests. Cain and his people just moved themselves up the priority list. A police cruiser rolled past the church, moving slowly. The officer inside watched them through mirrored sunglasses before accelerating away.
Ruth approached, glass crunching under her sensible shoes. She touched the broken window frame, decades of memories in her eyes. Your father helped install this window," she said quietly to Alana 30 years ago. Flickering neon from Mike's allight diner cast alternating pink and blue shadows across the nearly empty parking lot. At this hour, only truckers and night shift workers occupied the vinyl booths inside.
Officer Blake Hoit's hands gripped his steering wheel, knuckles white, as he scanned the lot for the third time. A dark sedan pulled in quietly, parking two spaces away. Hoit's breath caught as Dr. Alana Pierce stepped out wearing a plain windbreaker despite the warm night. She moved with careful steps, her injuries from Cain's attack still fresh. Hoit got out, trying to look casual as he approached.
His uniform was at home. He wore jeans and a Riverton Raiders baseball cap. "Dr. Pierce," he whispered. Thanks for meeting me. Let's walk, she said, gesturing toward the edge of the lot, where shadows pulled beneath old oak trees.
Her voice was still rough from the choke hold. They fell into step, maintaining enough distance to look like strangers having separate cigarette breaks. The diner's neon grew distant. "I've been wanting to come forward," Hoit said, words tumbling out. Since I joined the force last year, the things I've seen.
The grays, they run everything. Cane's just the muscle. There's more of them higher up. Alana listened, face neutral. Why now?
What they did to you? Hoit's voice cracked. And that kid, Keon, it's wrong. All of it. The shakedowns, the missing evidence, the He swallowed hard.
I can't sleep anymore. A car pulled into the lot. They both tensed until its headlights swept past. They have meetings, Hoit continued. Poker nights at Lieutenant Darlow's house.
That's where they talk freely. About operations, about who needs teaching lessons. They made me watch once when they caught a teenager with pills. Said it was training. Alana's jaw tightened.
Would you be willing to wear a wire? Hoit's step faltered. They'd kill me if they found out. We can protect you. She turned to face him fully.
But I need evidence, Blake. Real proof, not just witness testimony. He ran a shaking hand through his hair. The next poker night is Thursday. Darlow's hosting again.
You don't have to decide now. I'll do it. His voice steadied. For that kid, for everyone they've hurt. Across town, Ruth Pierce's living room had become a command center.
Despite the late hour, six church elders sat with phones and notebooks, heads bent together over Ruth's coffee table. "Sister Wilson, you take the East Side congregations," Ruth directed, passing out printed phone lists. "Sister Jenkins, you coordinate with the Baptist Alliance. Brother Thomas, you handle the Methodist circuit. What do we tell people?
Sister Jenkins asked, adjusting her reading glasses. Tell them to call City Hall every day, multiple times. Tell them to demand answers about the assault on my daughter, about Cain's record, about the missing body cam footage. Ruth's voice carried the authority of decades leading choir practice. They ignore one voice.
They can't ignore hundreds. The seniors in this city built these streets, Brother Thomas added, "Paid these taxes, raised these children. Time to remind them who really owns Riverton." 3 days later, Alana sat in an unmarked van two blocks from Darlow's house, headphones pressed to her ears. Hoit's wire transmitted clearly through the poker game cigarette smoke and clinking bottles.
Kids got potential. Cain's voice crackled through. Learned quick after that corner lesson last month. Speaking of lessons, Darlow drawled. Heard some troublemakers by the community college need reminding about territory.
Already handled, Cain replied. Nothing like a little late night visit to keep the kids in line. Right, Rookie? Yes, sir. Hoit's voice was steady despite his fear.
Very educational. Laughter rippled through the transmission. See, that's what I mean. Quick learner, the game continued. Hoit captured every boast, every threat, every casual admission of brutality.
Each word another nail in their coffin. Near midnight, Hoy made his excuses and left. 10 minutes later, he slipped into the van's side door, hands trembling as he removed the wire. You did well, Alana said softly, taking the recorder. That's solid evidence.
They were talking about more tonight than usual, Hoy whispered. Something big coming. Drug shipments, payoffs, one step at a time. She squeezed his shoulder gently. You're not alone anymore.
The young officer nodded, but his eyes kept darting to the van's tinted windows. In the distance, a police siren wailed, making him flinch. I should go, he said. Separate exits, like you said. Same time next week, Elena confirmed.
Well have backup nearby. Just keep doing what you're doing. Hoit slipped out into the darkness, shoulders hunched against imagined watchers. Alana watched him go, the recorder heavy in her hands. On it.
Cain's voice bragged about broken bones and terrorized teenagers. Each word sealing his fate. But first, they needed more proof that would be bulletproof in court. In her pocket, her phone buzzed with a text from Ruth. 300 calls to City Hall today.
Tomorrow we double it. The old wooden pews of Greater Hope Baptist Church creaked under the weight of a full house. Morning sunlight streamed through stained glass, painting rainbow patterns across aged faces set with determination. Ruth Pierce stood at the pulpit, her silver hair catching the light as she led the congregation in we shall overcome. Ethan Cho sat in the back row, his digital recorder capturing every note.