The message appeared on James Carter’s secure phone at 11:47 p.m.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: YOU ARE LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE.
James stared at the screen.
Across the conference room, Special Agent Marcus Reed placed a folder on the table.
“Director, we traced the number that contacted Hayes.”
James looked up.
“And?”
Marcus hesitated.
“It belongs to retired Captain William Rourke.”
Captain Laura Mitchell frowned.
“Rourke? He died four years ago.”
“According to the official records,” Marcus replied.
James opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph of a gray-haired man standing beside a patrol vehicle. The photograph was old, but the face was unmistakable.
William Rourke had commanded District Seven before Lieutenant Harris took over.
“He was investigated for evidence tampering,” Brooks said quietly. “Then the investigation disappeared.”
James studied the photograph.
“Did he actually die?”
Marcus shook his head.
“No death certificate was ever independently verified. His pension payments stopped, but someone continued accessing his retirement account.”
James closed the folder.
“Then we aren't investigating a dead commander.”
He looked toward the window.
“We're investigating someone who knows exactly how this department works.”
His phone vibrated again.
A second message appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: ASK BROOKS WHAT HE TOOK FROM THE EVIDENCE ROOM.
James slowly turned toward the young officer.
“Ethan, is there something you haven't told us?”
Brooks went pale.
“I didn't take anything.”
James waited.
Brooks swallowed.
“Not exactly.”
CHAPTER 5 — THE SECOND LEDGER
Brooks finally explained.
Three months earlier, he had been assigned to organize archived evidence records after an internal audit. During that assignment, he discovered a discrepancy between the department's digital inventory and the original paper records.
Several seized-property entries had been altered.
Cash disappeared.
Personal belongings were marked as destroyed despite having no destruction authorization.
And the names of officers who had handled the property had been removed.
“I made copies,” Brooks admitted. “I thought if I reported it, someone would investigate.”
“Who did you report it to?” James asked.
“Lieutenant Harris.”
James leaned back.
“And what happened?”
Brooks looked down.
“He told me I was confusing routine administrative corrections with criminal activity.”
Marcus opened another folder.
“That's not all. Harris accessed the evidence archive forty-seven minutes after Brooks made those copies.”
Captain Mitchell looked shocked.
“That's impossible. Harris wasn't assigned to evidence management.”
James turned toward her.
“That's precisely why we need to preserve every access record.”
Brooks reached inside his jacket and produced a small encrypted drive.
“This is what I kept.”
Marcus carefully accepted it.
“Is this the only copy?”
“No.”
Brooks hesitated.
“I made another one. I gave it to someone I trusted.”
“Who?” James asked.
“My sister.”
James frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I believed someone inside the department was watching me.”
James exchanged a glance with Marcus.
“Where is your sister now?”
Brooks's phone began ringing.
The caller ID displayed one name.
SARAH.
He answered immediately.
“Sarah?”
A frightened voice came through the speaker.
“Ethan, someone is outside my apartment.”
Then came a loud crash.
The call ended.
CHAPTER 6 — THE WOMAN AT APARTMENT 12B
Marcus immediately contacted the FBI field office.
James stood over Brooks.
“Where does your sister live?”
“Richmond. Apartment twelve-B.”
“Get the address to Reed.”
Brooks grabbed his jacket.
“I'm going with you.”