Chapter 22 #2
Claire retrieved her phone. "Who’s your contact that can help? Did you say his name was Parks? This requires immediate police response regardless of departmental politics."
"No." Lawson's response came sharper than intended. "We don't know who to trust inside the department. The person who ordered Monica's death could be anyone with sufficient authority."
"Including Parks?" Fiona raised an eyebrow.
"I don't think so." Lawson considered the evidence Parks had shared. His questions about corruption. His careful documentation of evidence mishandling. "But certainty costs lives at this point."
Claire set her phone down without dialing. "What's our next move then?"
The Dead Air website remained unchanged. No further updates appeared despite five minutes passing since the broadcast interruption. Lawson stood and resumed pacing, her mind processing fragments from Blackwell's presentation.
"Blackwell said the second recording came from Ray's personal cloud storage." She thought aloud while moving. "A digital location accessible from anywhere."
"If we can identify his accounts." Fiona nodded slowly. "Digital forensics might—"
"His brother would have access." Claire interrupted. "A family member could claim inheritance rights to digital assets."
"Meaning Thomas Hutchinson likely has the recording Blackwell was about to play." Lawson completed the thought. "The same recording his assistant warned him about during our call."
Fiona gathered her equipment with sudden urgency. "I need to get to the Chronicle. Pull everything we have on Thomas Hutchinson's movements today. Cross-reference with potential broadcast locations Blackwell might use."
"Too dangerous alone." Claire objected. "Whoever took Blackwell won't hesitate—"
"A public newsroom offers safety in numbers." Fiona continued packing. "The Chronicle's security protocols exist for journalists' protection during sensitive investigations."
The argument continued while Lawson replayed the final moments of the broadcast in her mind. Something about the male voice triggered faint recognition. Not enough to identify with certainty, but a familiar cadence beneath the distortion.
"You shouldn't have trusted him. Some mentors betray their students."
The phrasing itself provided a potential clue. A mentor relationship. A betrayal dynamic. A connection to law enforcement or the legal profession where mentorship structures existed formally.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming message. Parks' number: Blackwell's broadcast location identified. River Street Parking Garage. Level 4. Meet me there in one hour.
"Parks just texted." Lawson interrupted Claire and Fiona's ongoing debate. "They've found where Blackwell was broadcasting from. He wants me to meet him at the River Street Parking Garage."
Claire's expression shifted to concern. "Could be a trap. We don't know who to trust right now."
"Maybe the real killer is trying to lure you out." Fiona moved to Lawson's side, reading the message over her shoulder. "After what we just heard happen to Blackwell—"
"If that's the case, it is what it is." Lawson pocketed her phone with resolute determination. "I want to know the truth. Five years is long enough."
"You can't seriously be considering meeting him alone." Claire stood, her voice sharpening with alarm. "Not after witnessing a live abduction."
"I need answers." Lawson moved toward her jacket draped over a nearby chair. "Parks has been straight with me so far. If they've found where Blackwell was taken—"
"And if they haven't?" Fiona challenged. "If someone has his phone? If he's been compromised?"
Lawson paused, considering the possibilities. Every investigative instinct acknowledged the danger. Yet the alternative—remaining in hiding while answers slipped further away—felt intolerable after five years of searching.
"I'm going." Her voice left no room for debate.
Claire and Fiona exchanged glances, more silent communication passing between them before Claire nodded firmly.
"Then we're coming with you." Claire reached for her own jacket.
Lawson recognized the determined set of both women's expressions. The same determination that had driven Claire to overturn wrongful convictions and Fiona to pursue stories others abandoned. Arguing would waste valuable preparation time.
"Fine," she conceded with reluctance that masked genuine relief. "But we do this professionally. Entry strategy. Communication protocol. Extraction plan if things go sideways."
"I have gear in my car." Fiona patted her equipment bag. "Including a portable scanner for police frequencies."
"I know the building layout." Claire grabbed her keys from the counter. "A colleague represented the property management company during a liability case three years ago."
Lawson felt a surge of unexpected gratitude as they moved with coordinated purpose toward the door. Whatever waited at the parking garage—trap or truth—she no longer faced it alone.
After five years of solitary pursuit, she had allies willing to risk their safety alongside her. The weight of Monica's death, carried alone for so long, now was distributed across willing shoulders.
Some burdens became lighter when shared with the right people.