She just stared at the badge in her daughter’s tiny hand.
“The man from your school?” she whispered.
The girl nodded, eyes huge with fear.
“He smiled at me,” she said softly. “He told my teacher he was your friend.”
The woman’s stomach turned.
Captain Reyes had never met her.
Which meant he had been near her daughter before tonight. Watching. Planning.
A flashlight beam slid across the car above their heads, and both of them froze again.
Footsteps crunched closer.
Then a new voice shouted from somewhere beyond the rows of wrecked cars:
“Wait! Stop searching this section!”
The woman peered through the cracked window of the ruined car and saw a younger officer pushing past the others.
Not panicked.
Focused.
Desperate.
It was Officer Nolan — the only cop in the precinct who had looked unsettled when the fake kidnapping alert was issued.
Captain Reyes stormed toward him. “What are you doing?”
Nolan’s jaw tightened. “The girl’s backpack was found at the school yesterday. This didn’t start tonight.”
Reyes went still.
The woman stopped breathing.
Nolan raised his voice so the others could hear.
“And I pulled the traffic cam footage you ordered deleted.”
Every officer in the lot turned toward him.
Reyes stepped forward slowly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
But Nolan was already holding up his phone.
On the screen was a paused frame from a security camera.
The woman.
Her daughter.
And Captain Reyes standing outside the school two days earlier.
The little girl saw it too and began shaking violently.
“That’s him,” she whispered. “That’s the man who said if Mommy ever told anyone, we’d have to go away forever.”
The entire impound lot went silent.
Reyes’s hand moved toward his holster.
Nolan drew first.
The woman pulled her daughter lower behind the car, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Then Reyes looked directly toward their hiding place.
And smiled.
Because behind Nolan, stepping out from the shadows between two wrecked cars, was another officer leveling a gun at the back of Nolan’s head.