16. Breadcrumbs
16
brEADCRUMBS
Ten p.m. in Marina Del Rey. Maya crouched in the shadows between two luxury SUVs, the familiar tang of salty air mixing with exhaust fumes from the nearby freeway. Through tactical binoculars, she watched her childhood home—the condo in the fifteen-story glass and steel tower where she’d spent countless nights listening to her father’s tread in the hall, the quiet clink of his service weapon being stored, the rustle of case files. Now the building’s bright facade loomed against the Los Angeles skyline, its usual nighttime symphony of distant traffic and marina bells replaced by an unnatural silence that set her teeth on edge.
She shouldn’t be here. The Knight Tactical team had fought hard against bringing her, arguing that her emotional connection to the target would compromise the operation. But Maya had dug in her heels, the words burning in her throat: “He’s my father. I’m coming.” She’d stared them down, federal agent to private operators, until Jack had finally nodded.
Now, six hours after that tense standoff, she was helping a private military team kidnap her father. The irony wasn’t lost on her.
“Infrared scan complete,” Star’s voice purred through their earpieces. “Twelfth floor’s reading cold. No heat signatures.”
Maya’s stomach dropped. “That’s impossible. His phone?—”
“Cell signal’s still active in the unit,” Star confirmed, “but thermal imaging shows no one’s home. Hasn’t been for hours, based on residual readings.”
“He left his phone deliberately,” Ronan said beside her, voice tight. “It’s a diversion.”
“Confirmed empty,” Jack’s voice cut in. “Building’s security feeds show Captain Chen leaving three hours ago with a briefcase. No return entry.”
Maya’s hand clenched around her binoculars. Her father never went anywhere without his phone. Never broke routine without reason. He was meticulous, calculated. He wouldn’t just abandon his phone unless— “He knew we were coming.”
“Someone warned him,” Axel whispered, fingers tracing his earpiece. “The encryption on these comms is military-grade, but if someone knew we were mobilizing?—”
“Focus,” Christian’s voice cut through the night. “Star, run thermal sweeps on all surrounding buildings. Austin, extend perimeter scan to two blocks. Someone tipped him off, which means?—”
“We’re being watched,” Maya finished, her gaze sweeping the rooflines with new urgency. Her father wasn’t just missing. He was three steps ahead of them.
And they’d just walked into his territory blind.
“This gear is insane,” Axel whispered beside her, fingers tracing his earpiece. “The encryption alone must be?—”
“Focus, puppies.” Christian’s voice cut through the night. “We know it’s empty, but we still do this by the book. Three-man team clearing the apartment. You three maintain perimeter watch. Look for any surveillance, any sign of who tipped him off.”
Maya bit back a protest. She understood the logic, but watching others search her father’s home felt wrong.
Ronan shifted on her other side, radiating tension. She recognized that stillness—the forced inaction of a trained operator regulated to the sidelines. His gaze swept the roofline, the surrounding buildings, the street access points. “You’re right, Maya. Someone’s watching. Has to be.”
“Moving to entry point,” Jack murmured through comms. “Austin, maintain exit route alpha. Star, keep scanning for any new heat signatures in the surrounding buildings.”
“Copy that,” came the calm responses.
Christian’s team melted into the shadows. Through her binoculars, Maya studied the familiar twelfth-floor windows. The darkness felt deliberate now, a message rather than an absence.
“Apartment secured,” Christian’s voice was clipped. “But you need to see this. Bring them up.”
“Moving to your position,” Ronan replied, already in motion. “Watch our six.”
Maya and Axel fell in behind him as they crossed the street, staying tight to the shadows. The service entrance yielded to Knight Tactical’s electronic skeleton key, and they took the stairs two at a time to the twelfth floor.
Christian met them at the apartment door, his team maintaining a defensive perimeter in the hallway. His expression was grim. “It’s not just empty. It’s staged.”
Maya stepped into her father’s apartment, the familiar scents of coffee and leather hitting her like a physical blow. The space felt wrong—too still, too quiet. Around her, Knight Tactical’s team moved with practiced efficiency, but as she took in the scene, her detective’s training kicked in.
This wasn’t just her father’s home. It was a message, carefully crafted and waiting just for them.
She moved to her father’s reading chair, noting the angle. Wrong. He was meticulous about keeping it positioned for optimal light. Lawrence Chen might be a maverick when it came to his job, but in his personal life, the man was as OCD as it got. Everything in its place. Always. “He knew they were coming.”
Christian paused his sweep. “How can you tell?”
“Everything’s slightly off.” She gestured to the military biography on the side table. “This book isn’t straight. Dad always lines things up.” Her eyes tracked across the room. “Coffee cup left out—he never does that. And his reading glasses ...”
She moved to his desk, mind clicking through the evidence. “His backup weapon’s gone. So is his go-bag—he keeps it in the bottom drawer.” A detective’s habits, passed down to his daughter. “But he left his phone.” Something they could track.
“How long?” Jack asked.
“Hours. Maybe less.” She touched the coffee cup. “Still has a ring of moisture under it.”
He would have left more clues. She crossed to his closet. “His old patrolman uniform is gone.” She pointed to the garment bag hook, conspicuously empty. “And his medal case is shifted.” Moving to the case, she carefully lifted it. A business card lay beneath—Phil’s Boat Service. Something he knew she’d check if she’d read his other clues right. “He’s not running scared. He’s hunting.”
The tactical teams exchanged looks. This wasn’t their world—stakeouts and informant networks, piecing together clues from displaced objects and deliberate signs.
“Your father’s good,” Jack said quietly.
“The best.” Pride mixed with fear in her chest. “And he just laid out a trail of breadcrumbs. Question is—for us, or for them?”
“Direction?” Christian pressed.
For the first time since the pursuit began, Maya felt solid ground under her feet. This she understood. “He’ll start with his old CI network. There’s a diner in Venice ...” She stopped, detective’s instincts screaming. “No. That’s too obvious.”
She scanned the room again, seeing it through her father’s eyes. Career police officer. Master investigator. Man who’d taught her to read a scene.
“Multiple vehicles approaching,” Star’s voice crackled through comms. “Professional formation. Time to go.”
“Copy.” Jack’s response was instant. “Alpha team, cover our exit. Beta team?—”
“Windows,” Ronan cut in. “They’ll have the stairs and elevator covered.”
“Bingo.” His brother responded instantly. “Abort.”
The night erupted into motion. Maya caught glimpses of Christian’s team emerging fast but controlled, just as unmarked sedans began sliding out of side streets.
“Company,” Austin announced. “Multiple vehicles, tactical approach pattern.”
“Run.” Christian’s command galvanized them into action.
Maya sprinted for the lead SUV, Ronan right behind her, Axel already yanking open the rear door. She dove in as Austin gunned the engine.
“Four vehicles in pursuit,” Star reported from Hope Landing. “Taking you off main streets. Right at the next corner, then immediate left into the alley.”
Maya grabbed the overhead handle as Austin took the turn at speed. In the darkness behind them, engines roared.
“They’re not law enforcement,” Ronan said grimly. “They’re too good.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. They’d been too late to save her father … and now maybe even themselves.
“Second vehicle, maintain parallel course,” Jack ordered through comms. “We’ll split their focus.”
Streetlights strobed in her eyes as Austin threaded through Marina Del Rey’s back streets. Each turn brought them deeper into the maze of storage facilities and boat repair shops.
“LAPD units responding to calls about suspicious vehicles,” Star reported. “Austin, hang right at the marina. Christian’s team will draw the pursuit north.”
Maya’s stomach lurched as Austin swung the SUV around a corner, tires screaming. Behind them, two of the pursuit vehicles peeled off after Christian’s team.
“Two still on us,” Axel reported, twisted around in his seat. “Gaining.”
“Warehouse district coming up,” Star said. “Cut through the loading yard at Fuller Marine. Security gate’s disabled.”
Austin didn’t hesitate, taking them through a gap barely wider than the SUV. Metal scraped metal as they squeezed past abandoned shipping containers.
“They’re boxing us in,” Ronan warned, voice tight. “Classic tactical containment.”
“Not for long.” Austin’s smile was fierce in the rearview mirror. He yanked the wheel hard, sending them through a shower of sparks as they scraped between two buildings. “Star, we need that safe house location now.”
“Uploading coordinates. Apartment complex two klicks to your west. Underground garage access. Security systems are already looped.”
The pursuit vehicles matched them turn for turn, their drivers showing the kind of skill that only came from professional training. Austin wove through a construction site, sending barricades flying. Maya’s knuckles went white on the handle as they burst through a chain-link fence.
“They’re not even trying to disable us,” Axel noted, tension in his voice. “Just keeping pace.”
As if his words triggered something, the pursuit vehicles suddenly dropped back. No dramatic moves, no last-ditch efforts. They simply ... withdrew.
“Christian, report,” Jack barked through comms.
“Same here. They just broke off. Clean.”
“That’s not normal,” Maya said, the hair on her neck rising.
“We’ll take the win,” Austin replied, but his expression was wary. “Star, local LEOs?”
“Three units converging. Two minutes out.”
Austin guided them into a twenty-four-hour grocery parking lot, killing the lights. They watched two patrol cars scream past, sirens wailing.
“Loading dock behind the store,” Star directed. “Delivery trucks provide cover. Wait three minutes, then take surface streets to the safe house. They’re looking for vehicles in motion.”
Maya held her breath as a third patrol car crawled past their position. The delivery trucks screened them perfectly – just another dark SUV making a late-night grocery run.
Maya’s world narrowed to flashing lights, squealing tires, and the pulse pounding in her ears. Ten minutes that felt like hours until Star finally announced, “Clear. No pursuit vehicles within ten blocks.”
The garage door rolled shut behind them with a final-sounding clang. Maya stumbled out of the SUV, legs shaking. Her father was gone. They’d been too late.
“Maya.” Ronan’s hand settled on her shoulder, steady and warm. “We’ll find him.”
She turned, meeting his eyes in the dim garage lighting. “They knew we were coming. They were waiting for us.”
“Good.” His voice was steel. “Because they just showed their hand.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “Now we show ours.”
Maya drew a deep breath, straightening her spine. He was right. This wasn’t over.
Frozen to her core, she did the only thing she could: pray to her Lord and Savior.