Chapter 13 - The Trap
Sarah knew something was wrong before she reached her apartment door.
It stood open by two inches.
She had locked it.
She stepped back.
Her hand moved toward the backup revolver strapped beneath her jeans.
Her service weapon had been surrendered.
This gun was legally registered.
Sarah drew it.
She entered.
The living room had been destroyed.
Couch cushions sliced.
Drawers emptied.
Photographs shattered.
Lily's drawings torn from the refrigerator.
Sarah's anger became almost unbearable.
Then she saw the kitchen counter.
Five white bricks sat beneath the overhead light.
Sarah stopped.
She did not need laboratory testing.
The packaging alone told her what Marcus was attempting.
Drugs.
Enough to turn a suspended detective into a convicted trafficker.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Sarah looked through the blinds.
Police vehicles surrounded the building.
Perfect timing.
Anonymous tip.
Probable cause.
Suspended cop.
Illegal-looking narcotics sitting openly in her apartment.
Marcus had designed the scene beautifully.
Sarah grabbed her laptop.
The original drive was still in her pocket.
She moved toward the fire escape.
Heavy boots thundered in the hallway.
"POLICE!"
Sarah pushed open the window.
The front door exploded inward.
She climbed outside.
"Sarah Vance!"
She descended rapidly.
Metal stairs shook beneath her.
A flashlight beam found her.
"STOP!"
Sarah jumped the final eight feet.
Pain shot through her ankle.
She kept moving.
The alley opened onto a crowded street.
Sarah pulled on a hooded sweatshirt.
She disappeared among commuters.
Two blocks later, her phone displayed an emergency alert.
WANTED FOR QUESTIONING.
Former Detective Sarah Vance.
Potential narcotics investigation.
Sarah stared at her own photograph.
Marcus had done exactly what he promised.
He had changed the story.
Yesterday, she was the mother of an injured child.
Today, she was a disgraced cop fleeing a drug raid.
Sarah turned off the phone.
A police cruiser passed.
She lowered her head.
There was only one person left she trusted enough to contact.
Assistant District Attorney Elena Rostova.
Elena had prosecuted cops.
Gang leaders.
Politicians.
Two years earlier, she had refused a federal judgeship because she believed the appointment came with political conditions.
If Marcus had not bought her, he probably feared her.
Sarah reached an abandoned warehouse near the docks.
She locked herself inside an old office.
Then she opened her burner phone.
She typed one message.
I HAVE THE VIDEO.
I NEED SOMEONE MARCUS THORNE DOESN'T OWN.
May you like
Elena responded forty seconds later.
Then come alone.
