Chapter 13: Caught in the Act
Chapter 13: Caught in the Act
Instead of a terrified, trembling video editor clutching a laptop and begging for digital currency, a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped calmly and silently out from behind a massive concrete support pillar. It wasn't Leo.
Detective Marcus Hayes walked slowly into the dim pool of light, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his trench coat. A grim, victorious smile played on the veteran detective's lips. "Looking for this, Tyler?" Hayes asked smoothly. He pulled his hand from his pocket and held up the silver, rectangular solid-state hard drive, perfectly suspended between his thumb and forefinger by a small plastic evidence bag.
Tyler froze, his heart dropping entirely into his stomach. The blood roared in his ears. "Where... where is Leo?" Tyler stammered, taking a slow step backward.
"Leo is sitting safely in an interview room downtown, crying his eyes out," Hayes replied, his voice echoing coldly in the garage. "Turns out, your editor was more afraid of accessory to murder charges than he was of you. He brought the footage straight to us right after he sent you that text."
Before Tyler could process the catastrophic failure of his plan, the pitch-black garage suddenly erupted in blinding, chaotic light. Searing red and blue police strobes illuminated the subterranean structure from every single exit ramp, stairwell, and blind corner. The deafening screech of tires echoed as three unmarked tactical vans boxed in his SUV.
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Panic completely hijacked Tyler's nervous system. He dropped the heavy tactical flashlight with a loud, damning metallic clang that echoed like a gunshot. He turned and tried to sprint desperately toward the dark emergency stairwell. He didn't make it five feet.
Two heavy-set, heavily armored tactical SWAT officers emerged from the shadows and tackled him brutally to the damp pavement. The impact drove the air entirely from Tyler's lungs in a violent rush. Rough hands grabbed his arms, twisting them painfully behind his back as they slapped cold steel handcuffs aggressively onto his wrists, pulling them punishingly tight. The rough concrete scraped the side of his face as Detective Hayes walked over, looking down at him with sheer disgust. Over the din of shouting officers and police radios, Hayes loudly and clearly read Tyler his Miranda rights. The digital empire was officially dead.
