Adrian waited.
The officer glanced at the radio, then at the road behind the patrol car.
Finally, he whispered, “You don't understand what you're involved in.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Then explain it.”
Ryan shook his head.
“I can't.”
“Can't, or won't?”
“You need to leave. Right now.”
Adrian stared at him.
“Five minutes ago, you were threatening to arrest me.”
Ryan's voice cracked.
“I'm trying to keep you alive.”
The words hung between them.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“What did you just say?”
Ryan looked as though he regretted speaking.
Then the radio crackled again.
A man's voice came through, low and distorted.
“Unit Twelve. Confirm the subject's identity.”
Ryan slowly raised the radio.
His eyes never left Adrian's face.
“Identity confirmed,” he said.
A pause followed.
Then the voice replied.
“Proceed to the next stage.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Adrian heard every word.
“What next stage?” he demanded.
Ryan lowered the radio without answering.
Adrian reached for his phone.
At that exact moment, his screen lit up with an incoming message from an unknown number.
There were only eight words.
STOP INVESTIGATING NORTHSTAR. YOU HAVE BEEN IDENTIFIED.
Adrian read the message twice.
Then he looked at Ryan.
“Northstar,” he said quietly. “What does that mean to you?”
The officer's face drained of color.
Before Ryan could respond, a second message appeared.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed Adrian standing beside his SUV moments earlier, captured from an angle that should have been impossible from the open highway.
Someone had been watching them.
Someone close enough to photograph his face.
And beneath the image was a final sentence:
THE OFFICER IS NOT YOUR ENEMY. HE IS YOUR LAST WARNING.
Adrian slowly raised his eyes.
Ryan was no longer looking at him.
He was staring at the patrol car's rear window.
Something was reflected in the glass.
A second vehicle had stopped behind them.
Its headlights were off.
Its windows were black.
And the driver's door was beginning to open.
Adrian slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Officer Mitchell,” he said, his voice suddenly calm again, “step away from the vehicle.”
Ryan didn't move.
“Ryan.”
The officer looked at him.
For the first time, Adrian used his first name.
“Whatever happens next, don't reach for your weapon. Don't make any sudden movements. And whatever that person tells you…”
Adrian glanced toward the opening door.
“…don't believe a word.”
A figure stepped out of the second vehicle.
The face remained hidden in the glare of the afternoon sun.
Then the figure spoke.
“Agent Cole.”
Adrian went completely still.
The voice was familiar.
Too familiar.
Because it belonged to a man who had officially been dead for seven years.
TO BE CONTINUED…