Shaw opened her folder.
"Peter Lawson had been collecting documents connected to Northbridge. He was preparing to publish an article about the company's relationship with several law enforcement agencies."
Jessica stared at David.
"Did my father give him the documents?"
David hesitated.
"Yes."
"Then what happened?"
David looked directly at her.
"Your father came to me the night before the journalist died."
Jessica held her breath.
"What did he say?"
"He told me he had found proof that Northbridge was operating inside the police department."
"What kind of proof?"
"An internal access list."
David tapped the metal case.
"Names. Badge numbers. Password records. Authorization codes."
He paused.
"People who could enter any evidence room in the city without triggering an alarm."
Jessica looked at Harris.
"And your name was on that list?"
Harris didn't answer.
David nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Jessica turned toward the lieutenant.
"Was it?"
Harris looked at her.
"Jessica..."
"Was your name on the list?"
He lowered his head.
"Yes."
The word landed heavily.
Jessica stared at him.
"Then why are you still wearing that uniform?"
Harris's expression hardened.
"Because I didn't do what you think I did."
David gave a cold laugh.
"Then explain the recording."
Harris looked at him.
"That recording doesn't tell the whole story."
"Then tell the whole story."
Harris hesitated.
For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.
He glanced toward Captain Shaw.
"Not here."
Shaw closed her folder.
"Where, Lieutenant?"
Harris looked toward the dark building.
"Inside the station."
David immediately shook his head.
"No."
Harris frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust the station."
Jessica looked confused.
"What are you talking about?"
David turned toward her.
"Remember when I told you somebody knew where I would be tonight?"
Jessica nodded.
"Yes."
David pointed toward the patrol car.
"Your radio transmitted our location."
Jessica frowned.
"That's normal."
"Not if somebody was listening for your specific unit number."
Shaw's expression changed.
She pulled a small device from her coat pocket.
A phone.
The screen displayed an incoming message.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO RETURN THE EVIDENCE.
Shaw stared at it.
A second message appeared.
OR THE NEXT PERSON TO DISAPPEAR WILL BE JESSICA MILLER.
Jessica's face went pale.
Harris slowly looked toward her.
David's expression became completely still.
Then he said:
"We're not going to the station."
He closed the metal case.
"We're going somewhere the department can't reach us."
PART 4 — THE HOUSE WITHOUT A NAME
The old house stood at the end of a narrow street in West Baltimore.
It was a two-story brick building with boarded windows and a rusted mailbox. The front porch sagged slightly, and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete walkway.
David parked his vehicle several houses away.