Chapter 16
Roque
I was on my first day back after the kids got sick, and I already felt like I’d aged five years—no sleep, no downtime, just the bone-deep exhaustion that made your soul ache. The station smelled like burnt coffee and locker room musk—business as usual. But then my name came over the intercom, Chief Topper wanted to see me.
I didn’t like Randolph Topper and never had. He’d been in the job a year, and something about him always felt off—too polished, too rehearsed, like he practiced empathy in the mirror. I walked into his office and found him leaning back like he didn’t have a care in the world—casual voice, relaxed shoulders, and eyes that tried to act like they weren’t hiding anything.
But I knew better because Judd had told me what he’d uncovered. The kind of things that, if they saw the light of day, could wreck the man’s life. I couldn’t imagine knowing a moment of peace if I was up to what he was. Then again, maybe some people found money and power more comforting than a clean conscience. I’d also been filled in this morning about what had upset Sayla enough for her to stay at Alex and Evie’s the other night—she’d received photos, like I had. These ones were of her at work, and I was silently seething about it.
“Glad to see you back, Roque,” he said like we were old friends. “How are the kids holding up?”
“Better now,” I said, short and clipped—no invitation to dig deeper.
He smiled like he cared and asked how I was managing the extra load at home and what was going on with everything. I gave him the same answer I gave anyone who asked—vague, quiet, enough to move on.
Then he slipped up. “And how’re you finding that new daycare?”
I froze for half a second, I hadn’t told him about that. I doubted anyone I trusted would’ve either. Fortunately, I was looking down at my hands, fiddling with a scratch on my thumb. It gave me just enough time to school my face into something dull and drained.
“It’s… fine,” I said, mustering a tired smile. “Thanks for asking.”
His eyes lingered too long. So, I leaned forward, like I needed to confide something, and lowered my voice.
“Truth is, I woke up in the middle of the night last night feeling really panicked. Just this feeling like I can’t keep them safe, no matter what I do.”
Topper’s lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something close like the idea of me unraveling gave him a sick kind of satisfaction.
“Why would you say that?”
“Isn’t that what most parents worry about?” I asked, watching him closely. “You’ve got four kids, right, from both of your marriages?”
The shift was subtle, but I saw it. The flicker in his eyes. He didn’t like that I knew that information.
“I mean,” I continued, “you’ve gotta think about that sometimes. Guys you’ve arrested or people you’ve crossed. Hell, even people you might’ve worked with who didn’t like how something played out. You ever worry what they’d do to get back at you—maybe through your family?”
His jaw tightened. The mask cracked just a little, and I saw the fury flash in his eyes before he caught himself.
“I imagine that could be something that keeps a dad up at night,” he said finally, voice clipped now, not so casual anymore.
“Yeah,” I said. “So, how do you settle that fear?”
But before he could answer, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, seeing it was Judd.
“Gotta take this,” I said, already standing. “It’s a scene.”
I left without waiting for him to say anything else. Just the quiet satisfaction of knowing I’d struck a nerve—and the knowledge that whatever Topper was hiding, it was starting to weigh on him. And I wasn’t done yet.
We greeted the coroner as he approached, exchanging the usual grim nods reserved for scenes like this. Then we started walking back toward our cars, our boots crunching through the damp underbrush. I looked for anything resembling a snake, given they’d love this place.
“I had a hell of a morning before this,” I said, voice low enough that only Judd could hear.
“Oh yeah?” he muttered, not looking at me yet.
“Topper called me into his office.”
That got his attention. He hissed through his teeth, sharp and quiet. “Shit, what’d he want?”
“Nothing useful,” I said. “Just trying to act like he wasn’t sweating through that fancy-ass shirt of his. Asked about the kids, how I’m holding up, and then dropped a little bomb—asked how I was liking the new daycare.”
Judd stopped in his tracks. “He what?”
“Yeah,” I said, letting the word hang. “I’ve never told him about that, and I sure as hell know no one I trust did.”
Judd’s mouth pressed into a line. “You play it cool?”
“I looked down at my hands when he said it,” I told him, “which gave me a second to kill the reaction. In the end, I told him I’d been waking up in a panic about not being able to keep them safe and let him know I knew about his kids, too.”
Judd let out a low, humorless laugh. “Good.”
“His face said he liked hearing it a little too much about my kids but not about his own.”
“Yeah, well,” Judd said, shaking his head, “play him at his own game all you want but avoid him as much as possible. Whatever he’s hiding, it’s getting harder for him to keep it buried. You push the wrong button at the wrong time, and he might start swinging.”
I nodded. We were back at the cars now, and Judd leaned against his, arms folded, watching the woods like they might cough up more secrets.
“They didn’t get any prints off that envelope or the photo,” he said after a moment. “The one Kapono collected when the kids got sick.”
I felt that familiar tightness coil in my chest again. “Of course not.”
“But,” he added, “they did find DNA on the envelope. Saliva, probably from sealing it. We’re running it through CODIS, but it’ll take a bit.”
I stared down at the earth near my boots, then back toward where Ailee’s body lay, waiting for the coroner to take her away.
“Fuck, it’s messed up that they got to Ailee.” That was all I could say. I’d barely known her, but in the grand scheme of things, she was an innocent in all this. All she did was arrange for the girls to meet the guys and go to some appointments herself.
“Pretty much,” Judd agreed, eyes scanning the trees. “The dog walker found her and called it in. Looks like it’s a fresh dump, but the coroner will be able to confirm that.”
I nodded. “Yeah. No insects, no rigor mortis, no bloating. Whoever did this didn’t wait long.”
“Which makes you wonder,” Judd said, glancing back toward the body, “why the hell would someone risk dumping her in a busy spot at this time of day?”
“Desperation,” I mused. “Or stupidity. Could be both.”
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. The wind shifted, and I felt my mood drop further as I realized the weight and reality of the situation. Whoever had done this was out there, and if they were getting sloppy, it meant they were scared. Or they were just starting.
Our phones buzzed at the same time—a message from Kai. He was nearby, maybe five minutes from where we were, and he wanted to meet there rather than at the scene.
For anyone watching, it would just look like we were discussing case details. There was nothing suspicious, just three guys working a scene. So we got in our vehicles and drove over.
Kai didn’t waste time. “We got a hit on the DNA,” he said as soon as we stepped out. “I figured I’d run it against a few of the guys we’ve been watching, just in case, and it came back to this guy.”
He tapped his phone screen, and Judd’s and mine pinged simultaneously. I pulled it up—a photo of a guy who looked like a sleazy knockoff gangster who watched too many Mob movies and thought he was the main character.
I didn’t recognize him. “Who the fuck’s this?”
“Tartin Echert,” Kai said.
The name meant nothing to me, but it definitely caught my attention. Judd squinted at the photo.
“Who the fuck calls their kid Tartin?”
Kai didn’t miss a beat. “This asshole’s,” he said, nodding toward the image on Judd’s phone.
I slipped mine back into my pocket like I couldn’t be bothered. “Do we know him?”
Judd reached into his SUV and grabbed the notebook he’d been scribbling in back at the scene. He passed it to Kai like he was filling him in on something routine. Kai flipped it open, eyes skimming the page as he answered.
“We’ve been tracking that guy AJ Lynch ever since we saw him visit Ailee. Whether it was to collect money or drop something off, we don’t know. But he led us to the barber shop on Pine Street and that new laundromat.”
Kai glanced up, tone shifting slightly.
“Five black SUVs rolled up outside that laundromat, and Romeo Foster went in two nights ago.”
That landed hard.
Romeo Foster was the name we’d been chasing for months because he was connected to every criminal empire worth knowing in Europe and Asia. A real self-made bastard with blood on his hands and money coming out of his ass because of it. We’d never been able to place him near any of the operations we suspected—especially not the laundromat.
Which meant something had gone wrong, something big enough to drag Foster into the open and make him reveal himself.
Kai glanced back down at his phone, scrolling with his thumb. “One more thing— the tracker we slipped into Topper’s wallet. He’s visited some random house on the outskirts of town, not once but twice in the last week.”
That got Judd’s attention fast. “What kind of house?”
Kai shrugged. “Nothing flagged in our databases. It looks like some fixer-upper in the middle of nowhere. There is no listed owner and no activity tied to it.”
“And his secretary?” I asked.
Kai nodded. “Talked to her this morning, off the record. She said she’s been steering clear of Topper because the guy’s been in a foul mood all week like he’s trying not to snap.”
Judd let out a low breath, thoughtful. “Something’s gone sideways.”
“You think he’s connected to Ailee’s death?” Kai asked, frowning.
“I think,” Judd said, “they bugged her house.”
“Shit,” I muttered, the gravity of the possibility of that hitting hard.
“She only ever used codenames,” Judd continued, “never our real names. And we always used burners, so they’d have to do some real digging to connect the dots. But if they overheard her talking about the pickups, cash, and movements, they’d start watching. And if they knew she was working with someone inside?—”
“Topper’s the only one who’d even have a clue who was close enough to help her,” I pointed out. “And with us, the chain of command’s tight. Most of our team keep their lives clean and quiet. A few one-night stands, maybe a date, but nothing you could leverage.”
Judd nodded grimly. “Except you.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.
Kai looked between us, face tightening with confusion. “Okay, hang on, back up. What are you two talking about? Leverage how?”
I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face before I met his eyes. “He called me into his office this morning, asked how the kids were doing at daycare, and named it. No one knows what one they go to besides a select few people, and none of them would have told him because none of them have spoken to him.”
Kai’s expression changed instantly—shock, followed by something darker. “Jesus.”
“We didn’t go wide with the photo Roque received,” Judd said. “But if they were watching, they’d expect us to panic.”
Kai was shaking his head now. “So, he’s outright threatening your kids now and trying to scare you off?”
“Or trying to flush out who Ailee was working with,” I said. “I’m the only one with a visible soft spot.”
“And Topper…” Kai trailed off.
“...knew about the kids. Knew about my situation,” I finished for him. “And if he’s dirty—and Judd’s intel says he probably is—then he’s got every reason to protect himself by throwing me under the bus.”
Kai looked like he was starting to see the full picture now. “So he’s spiraling.”
“Hard,” Judd confirmed. “And if he’s going out to that house twice a week, he’s either meeting someone or hiding something.”
“Either way,” I said, “it’s time we found out who the hell lives there.”
None of us said it, but the air had shifted. This wasn’t just about Ailee anymore, this was personal. And if Topper thought I would let him even think about coming after my kids again, he was about to learn how deep that line ran.
Kai’s eyes flicked toward me, his voice dropping just enough that I knew what was coming was meant only for me.
“Make sure your security’s always up,” he ordered. “Cameras, sensors, all of it. And keep those generators fueled—if they cut the power, you don’t want to be scrambling in the dark.”
I gave a tight nod. “Already on it.”
He hesitated, then added, “You need to talk to Sayla. Word’s getting around.”
I tensed. “What kind of word?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “Someone heard she was at your place during the snowstorm, and then a neighbor saw you both on the porch and started talking. Now people are wondering if you two are together.”
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Kai said. “I like her, Roque. I’m not saying this to be an ass—I’m saying it because you’ve got a target on you, and if people think she matters to you, that puts her in the blast zone.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose, heart rate ticking up a notch. “Her house is almost done,” I told him. “The contractors cut through a pipe again and flooded half the kitchen. She’s been staying at her sister’s place until it’s fixed, but I can monitor her easier once she’s back there. I’ll tell Bond to keep an eye out in the meantime,” I added. “Just in case.”
“Do that,” Kai said. “Last thing we need is her getting caught up in this mess.”
The thought slammed into me so fast it made my stomach lurch. Something I’d shoved to the back of my mind, buried under everything else we’d been dealing with. But now it came roaring back with brutal clarity.
The knife in Sayla’s tire.
It had happened the day before I brought the kids back home, so with everything that’d happened since there’d been just enough time for it to be forgotten and chalked up to bad luck or maybe a petty act of vandalism. But what if it wasn’t random?
Rubbing my temples, my jaw tightened as the panic crept in. I growled the words before I could stop them. “What if they already got to Sayla?”
Judd’s head snapped toward me, his whole body tensing like I’d pulled a trigger. “What?” he barked. “What the hell happened?”
“The knife in her tire,” I forced the words out like they were shards of glass.
Kai tilted his head, frowning as he stared at the patch of grass near his boots. “You think it’s connected?”
I didn’t answer with words, I didn’t need to. The look on my face told him everything he needed to know.
He exhaled slowly. “Now that you mention it... yeah. You could be right.”
Judd’s eyes narrowed. “Did we ever get anything back on the prints from the knife?”
Kai shook his head slowly, already pulling out his phone. “No, and with everything else going on, I didn’t push it. But I’ll call Kapono and have him cross-check them against the ones we pulled off the envelope. Quietly. We don’t want to light anything up.”
“Good,” Judd muttered, pacing a few steps like he was trying to burn off the sudden jolt of tension. “If it’s the same prints, then this whole thing’s already been bleeding into your personal life for longer than we realized, Roque.”
I nodded stiffly, my mind spiraling. The idea of Sayla being targeted—just for being close to me—hit harder than I wanted to admit. But panic was a luxury I couldn’t afford right now.
Panic clouded your judgment, and it made you miss details. It got people killed.
I closed my eyes briefly and pulled in a long, steadying breath. Then another. Slowing everything down before it broke loose inside me.
Focus. Breathe. Control the variables.
“I’ll talk to her tonight,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. “And I’ll make sure Bond knows to keep someone close. If they’re testing the edges, I want them to know we bite back.”
Judd, leaning against his truck with his arms crossed, finally spoke. “We all need to sweep our vehicles, homes, phones— everything. We need to assume they’ve planted something. Hell, assume they’ve plantedeverything.”
“Agreed,” I said. “We can’t afford surprises.”
We didn’t linger long. The conversation wound down like a fuse burning low—tight, quick, and ending in silence. We drove back to the PD together, pulling in with neutral faces like we’d just wrapped up a field check.
Inside, we found a couple of uniforms milling about, and Kai played his part without missing a beat.
“Thanks for meeting up with us,” I called to him, my voice loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “We just needed to run through the scene again with a fresh set of eyes. Hopefully, the coroner gets us that ID soon.”
“Still no cause of death?” Kai asked.
I shook my head. “Not yet. And the time of death’s still unclear, too.”
“Let me know when it comes through,” he said, giving a polite nod before heading off down the corridor.
I watched him go, my thoughts already jumping ahead. DNA hits, unknown houses, gossiping neighbors—everything was moving faster now. They were getting messier. And if they thought they had me cornered, they hadn’t seen what I’d do when I was protecting mine.
Judd and I walked in through the back entrance of the station and made our way toward his office like we didn’t have half a dozen threads burning in our heads. The second the door shut behind us, Judd’s phone buzzed, and a second later, so did mine.
Kapono: Around the corner. Deli run. Five minutes.
“Guess we’re hungry,” Judd muttered, already moving.
We slipped out the side door, cut through the alley behind the department, and looped around the corner to the deli. Kapono was already there, leaning against the brick wall like he’d just stepped out for a sandwich and some sun.
He didn’t say anything at first—just nodded and led us to the alley behind the deli, where the dumpsters masked the view from the street, then he pulled out his phone.
“I think I figured out what’s going on with those officers we’ve been watching,” he said.
Judd crossed his arms. “The racial profiling complaints?”
Kapono nodded. “Yeah, but it’s deeper than just harassment. They’ve been targeting specific families. Pushing hard—constant stops, visits, code violations, all of it.”
He swiped through a few files and then held the phone out.
“Look at these.”
I leaned in. Deed records. Transfer dates. Ownership changes. Property values.
“Tell me those addresses don’t look familiar.”
Judd’s brow furrowed. Kai leaned in closer.
“Wait a minute,” I said, scrolling through. “These were all flagged properties. Most of these families left town in the last year.”
“Yeah,” Kapono said. “Because they were racially profiled and harassed until they gave up. They all sold their homes at a loss to get out for peace of mind.”
“And who bought them?” Kai asked, already guessing the answer.
Kapono nodded and pulled up another screen. “Check this out.”
He tapped the screen again—photos, business licenses, shell companies—all tied to names we already had pinned to laundering and front operations for the syndicate we’d been circling for months.
“These spots—barbershops, laundromats, nail bars—they’re opening in the same neighborhoods they emptied out.”
“And the residential ones?” I asked, though I already had a bad feeling.
Kapono’s expression darkened. “Some are rented out to guys who look like your stereotypical muscle—all colors, tats, flashy cars. Ailee had tabs on a few of the rest because they were known meetup spots for escorts. She was still pulling names of clients when she was murdered.”
Judd let out a low whistle. “So they weren’t just profiling, they were clearing space. Creating real estate for the syndicate.”
“Exactly,” Kapono said. “They weren’t cleaning up the neighborhoods. They were repurposing them.”
A quiet settled between us for a beat. Not the good kind. The kind that builds pressure in your chest and makes your jaw clench.
“How many officers are involved?” Judd finally asked.
Kapono blew out a breath. “At least four, two of them with ties to Lynch. The others... I’m still digging. But it’s coordinated. This wasn’t a few bad apples, this was all done with strategy.”
“They clear the families, clear the heat,” I muttered. “Then the syndicate moves in clean.”
“And we’ve got Topper in the middle of it all,” Kai said. “Jesus.”
The dominoes were falling fast now. And from the way they were lined up, it was starting to look like Topper had been building something more significant than any of us realized. And he’d been using the badge to do it.
Judd exhaled through his nose, then straightened up. “We need to tag the ones we know are dirty. Watch where they go and who they talk to. Phones, vehicles, body cams—anything we can get without tipping them off.”
Kapono gave a sharp nod. “Already on it, I did it this morning while you three were out at the scene. They won’t even know they’re being followed.”
Judd looked impressed for half a second, then glanced over at Kai, who’d joined us. “Good, you and Kapono loop in Imogen and Keir quietly. Things are about to get heated.”
Kai muttered a curse under his breath but nodded. “They’ll be in.”
Judd turned to me next. “Might be time to pull the kids from daycare, Roque. At least for a little while.”
I bristled. I knew he was right—hell, I’d thought the same thing more than once—but it still hit like a gut punch. They were finally settling in, finding a rhythm again after being sick. I didn’t want to rip that away from them.
“I don’t want to mess up their routine this early,” I said. “They’ve finally got a place they feel happy in, and I picked that place for a reason. It’s got a full lockdown protocol and a panic room.”
Kai’s eyebrows lifted. “A panic room in a daycare?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Steel doors, independent air and power, reinforced comms. They built it after that attempted abduction last year over in Grafton, and the owners didn’t want to take any chances.”
Kai shook his head. “Sad day when a place that teaches finger painting and potty training needs a panic room.”
“Sadder day if it didn’t have one,” I muttered. “I need you to cross-reference the prints from the knife in Sayla’s tire. See if they match the guy whose DNA was on the envelope.”
Kapono’s eyes narrowed. “Eckhart?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t have prints on him—just the DNA. I happened to come across a coffee cup he left behind at a table a few weeks ago. I took a gamble and ran it, but he was wearing gloves so there aren’t any prints.”
Judd, standing nearby, sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, so, we’re trying to build a case on evidence we can’t legally use. That’s fantastic.”
“Hey,” Kapono protested, holding up a hand. “It gave us a name, didn’t it? Now we just have to work backward.”
“Right,” Judd muttered. “Just means when the time comes to file for a warrant or put cuffs on the guy, we’re gonna need a story that doesn’t include ‘we ran a cup we weren’t supposed to have.’”
Kapono smirked faintly, unfazed. “That won’t be a problem. Trust me.”
Then, he added, more seriously, “Should we go to the DA now and try for a warrant based on what we’ve got so far?”
Judd shook his head. “Not yet, it’s not enough. DNA from an untraceable envelope and a maybe link to a tire slash is smoke, not fire. We need to tie him to something else—visually, physically, digitally—then we move.”
Kapono gave a slow nod, already thinking ahead. “All right. I’ll find a way to bring in Eckhart that’s clean and above board. Maybe we’ll get a traffic stop and bring him in for questioning—whatever holds. I’ll get his prints the right way, then I’ll check them against the tire.”
I met his eyes. “If he touched that knife, I want to know yesterday.”
“You’ll have it,” Kapono promised. “One way or another.”
He peeled off, leaving Judd and me in the quiet tension of the hallway. Neither of us said it, but it was clear—Eckhart wasn’t just a ghost anymore. He had a face, a name, and soon, maybe a fingerprint.
And once we had that, we’d have enough to burn his whole world down.
We all stood there for a beat, no one saying what we were all thinking: that things were slipping fast, and we were getting closer to the edge of something we couldn’t walk back from.
But we’d already picked our side.
And Topper had no idea how close we were to blowing it all open.