Marcus finally picked up the folder.
It was heavier than he expected.
Inside were photographs, old witness statements, and several pages covered in black marker. Some documents carried official signatures. Others had been stamped with a red classification mark.
But one photograph caught his attention.
It showed Elijah Carter standing outside a convenience store three days before his death.
Beside him stood a uniformed police officer.
Marcus recognized the face immediately.
Daniel Hayes.
But there was something else.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written a short sentence:
HE WASN'T THE ONLY ONE THERE.
Marcus slowly raised his eyes.
"Captain, who reopened this investigation?"
Sullivan reached across the desk and took the photograph from him.
"Nobody."
"Then why is this evidence in your office?"
"Because I put it here."
"Why?"
The captain looked toward the closed door.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because somebody inside this building is going to die if that file gets out."
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, Reed."
Sullivan looked directly into his eyes.
"I'm warning you."
At that exact moment, the lights in the station flickered.
A second later, every computer screen went black.
Somewhere in the hallway, a woman screamed.
Marcus opened the office door.
Officers were standing around the front desk, staring at a security monitor that had suddenly switched back on.
A camera feed showed the parking lot.
A black sedan was parked outside the building.
Its headlights were off.
Its engine was running.
And someone was sitting in the driver's seat.
Marcus stepped closer to the monitor.
The driver slowly raised a hand and held something against the windshield.
A photograph.
The same photograph Marcus had just seen inside the folder.
Except this one had a new message written across it.
STOP LOOKING INTO 2019.
Marcus turned toward Sullivan.
The captain was no longer standing behind his desk.
He was staring at the monitor with a look Marcus had never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then Marcus heard a sound behind him.
A door opening.
He turned.
Daniel Hayes was standing at the entrance to the hallway, holding his service weapon.
His eyes were fixed on Marcus.
And he wasn't alone.
Two officers stood behind him.
Neither of them looked surprised.
Marcus finally understood something.
The young officer on the floor hadn't been the beginning of the problem.
He had been the warning.
And the real investigation had just begun.
Marcus didn't move.
Daniel Hayes stood at the end of the hallway, his right hand resting near his weapon. Behind him were two officers Marcus had worked with for years. One was Officer Bennett, a quiet man who rarely spoke unless necessary. The other was Officer Collins, a former military officer who had recently transferred into the department.
Neither looked comfortable.
"Put your weapon away, Hayes," Marcus said.
Daniel smiled.
"Nobody said anything about weapons, Reed."
"Then why are you standing there like you're waiting for an excuse?"
Hayes glanced toward the captain's office.
"Captain Sullivan wants you to come with us."
Marcus looked back at Sullivan.
The older man had gone pale.
"What's going on here?" Marcus asked.
"Just a misunderstanding," Sullivan replied.
Marcus knew that was a lie.
He slipped the photograph into his jacket pocket and held the folder under his arm.
"Then we can discuss it in front of everyone."
Hayes took one step forward.
"Hand over the folder."
"No."
The word was quiet, but it changed everything.
Bennett looked down at the floor. Collins shifted his weight. Hayes's smile disappeared.
For several seconds, the entire hallway remained frozen.
Then the lights came back on.
The security monitor returned to its normal display, but the black sedan outside had vanished.
Marcus turned toward the front desk.
"Someone call the police."
Hayes laughed.
"We are the police."
"Then someone call Internal Affairs."
The young officer behind the reception desk slowly reached for the telephone.
Hayes immediately turned toward him.
"Don't."
Marcus stepped between them.
"Leave him alone."
The receptionist dialed the number anyway.
Within minutes, Marcus was escorted into an interrogation room. His weapon and badge were temporarily confiscated, and the folder was taken by Captain Sullivan.
But Marcus had already memorized several details.
The name Elijah Carter.
The date of the incident.
And the photograph of Hayes standing beside him.
At 11:47 p.m., Marcus was finally released.
He walked outside into the cold night air and checked his phone.
One missed call.
Unknown number.
A text message followed.
You have no idea what happened that night. If you want the truth, meet me tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. Old Riverside Station. Come alone.
Marcus stared at the screen.
A second message arrived.
And don't trust Sullivan.
He immediately called the number.
It was disconnected.
For the next several hours, Marcus sat in his car, watching the police station from across the street.
At 5:52 a.m., he received another message.
This time, it contained a photograph.
It showed a young man sitting in a hospital bed.
The man was alive.
And underneath the photograph were six words:
ELIJAH CARTER NEVER DIED THAT NIGHT.
Marcus felt his heart stop.
If Elijah Carter was alive, then the entire official investigation had been built on a lie.
And the department had spent five years protecting it.
The Riverside Station had been abandoned for almost three years.
Its windows were covered with plywood, its entrance was chained shut, and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete parking lot.
Marcus arrived ten minutes early.
He parked two blocks away and approached the building on foot.