Chapter 6 #2
But Emma never got justice for Lisa Reynolds. The girl's case went cold. The trafficking network kept running because the killer had a federal badge and the authority to make evidence vanish. And Sela's found the evidence that could finally bring him down.
My phone vibrates on the table. Rhys, calling on the encrypted line.
I answer, keep my voice low. "Yeah."
"Cara said she sent you the files. You see them?"
"Looking at them now." I glance toward the bedroom door. Still closed. Sela's breathing still uneven through the wood. "It's Haywood. Emma photographed him with Montrose repeatedly over months. Transaction records, intercepted communications, task force redirections. She documented everything."
Rhys goes quiet for a moment. Background noise filters through the line. Harlow's voice, probably coordinating with the task force. "Haywood was part of Stormwatch. He's the one who testified against Cara."
"I know." I click through the photos again, studying Haywood's face.
He looks confident. Controlled. Used to being believed.
"Emma built a solid case, but she didn't know she was looking at the man who might be The Marshal.
She thought she'd found a dirty agent protecting traffickers. Didn't realize he was running them."
"Does it matter? Evidence is evidence."
"It matters because Emma didn't just find a dirty agent.
She found evidence the entire operation was being run from inside the FBI.
That's why they killed her. She got too close to the top.
" I close the laptop. Can't look at those photos anymore without wanting to put a fist through something.
"We're not just going after a corrupt agent.
We're going after someone with bureau resources, federal authority, and the ability to make people disappear. "
"What's our play?"
"Cara keeps working the encryption. There's more data Emma locked down that we haven't accessed yet.
Could be names, locations, the full structure of how this thing is run.
" I stand, scan the darkness beyond the window.
There's nothing out there but trees. "Meantime, we keep Sela alive.
Haywood knows she has the drive. He'll come for her. "
"You got backup if he does?"
"Finn can get here fast if I call. You're too far out. That leaves me holding ground alone until reinforcements arrive."
Silence on the line. Rhys is calculating the same thing I am. Response time versus assault duration. Professional contractors can breach and clear a structure like this cabin in minutes if they know what they're doing.
"I can call Caleb," Rhys says finally. "He's mobile, could get there faster than Zeke or I can stage from town."
"No." The answer comes fast. "Not that I don't trust Caleb, but the more people we bring in, the more comm traffic, the more movement. Haywood's got reach. Could have assets monitoring communications, watching for patterns. We bring in anyone else, we might as well send him an invitation."
"So you're alone."
"I'm prepared." I scan the treeline out of habit.
"Cabin's defensible. Single approach vector.
Good sight lines. Motion sensors on the perimeter.
I'll have warning if anyone comes up that access road.
And Sela's armed with my backup Glock. She can shoot.
We've got hunting rifles if it comes to that. "
"Can you hold?"
I think about the access road, the single approach vector, the defensible position this cabin gives me. Think about suppressed weapons and professional contractors who move like ghosts through terrain most people can't navigate in daylight.
"I can hold," I say. "Question is how hard they'll push."
"Hard enough to recover the evidence. Not hard enough to attract attention they can't explain." Rhys pauses. "They'll try to make it look like an accident. Propane leak, structural fire, something the state troopers will write off as tragedy instead of murder."
"I'll watch for it."
"Marc." Rhys's tone shifts, becomes something more personal than professional. "Sela's not trained for this. She's tough, but she's a civilian. If they breach the cabin..."
"I know." I cut him off before he can finish the thought. Before he can say what we both already know. "I'll keep her alive."
"See that you do."
The line goes dead.
I set the phone down, check the window again. Still clear. Still quiet.
Then the bedroom door opens. Sela stands in the doorway wearing Harlow's borrowed thermal shirt and jeans, the Glock in her hand held low but ready. Her eyes are alert, scanning the room before settling on me.
She's not panicked. Not frozen. She's awake and armed and assessing the situation.
"Couldn't sleep?" I ask.
"Heard you on the phone." She crosses to the table, sets the Glock down but keeps it within reach. She sits in the chair I vacated, looks at the dark laptop screen. "What did Cara find?"
No point lying. She needs to know what's coming for her.
"Photos of a corrupt FBI agent named Lyle Haywood meeting with Julian Montrose.
The man who ran the trafficking network Emma was investigating.
Multiple meetings over months. Emma documented transaction records, intercepted communications, timelines showing Haywood redirected federal task force operations to protect Montrose's network. "
Sela absorbs this, her expression controlled but her hands gripping the edge of the table. "So this Haywood. He's the one who framed Cara?"
"Yeah. Testified against her in the Stormwatch investigation. Presented fabricated evidence that buried her career while he protected the trafficking network." I lean back in the chair. "Turns out he's been dirty for years. Emma knew Haywood was corrupt. She built a case against him."
"A case that got her killed."
"A case that could bring him down if we can protect it long enough to go public."
Sela looks at the laptop, then back at me. Her jaw tightens. I recognize that expression. I've seen it on soldiers who've just realized they're in deeper than they thought but aren't planning to back down. "What are we dealing with? Realistically."
I move to the chair across from her. Sit. Meet her eyes. She needs the whole truth, not some sanitized version meant to keep her calm.
"The man trying to kill you has a federal badge and the weight of the FBI behind him.
He's got resources, authority, and the ability to make investigations disappear.
He's already killed Emma, framed Cara for deaths she didn't cause, and protected a trafficking network that's moved victims across state lines for years.
" I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "You found evidence that could destroy him.
He'll do whatever it takes to get it back and eliminate the witness who knows it exists. "
"Meaning me."
"Meaning you."
She goes quiet. She sits there, hands on the table, breathing steady.
Outside, wind moves through the trees. The cabin creaks, settling into the cold. They're normal sounds. Nothing sets off my threat radar.
But it's coming.
"Then we make sure the evidence survives," she says finally. "Even if I don't."
My chest goes tight. Wrong answer. Wrong priority.
"You're going to survive." The words come out harder than I intend. More certain. "I didn't pull you out of that parking garage just to lose you here."
Her eyes find mine. Hold. Understanding passes between us. Acknowledgment that this isn't just professional anymore. That somewhere between the station and the truck and the cabin, it became personal.
She doesn't look away. Neither do I.
"You don't know me," she says quietly. "We just met. Why does it matter?"
"Because you went low when that shooter opened fire instead of freezing.
Because you're sitting here asking what we're up against instead of falling apart.
Because Emma died trying to stop these bastards and you're willing to finish what she started even though it might kill you.
" I hold her gaze. "That matters. You matter. "
Her breath catches. Then she nods, once. She's made up her mind.
"Then we both survive," she says. "And we make sure Haywood pays for what he did to Emma."
"Deal."
Before either of us can say anything else, my laptop chimes.
A motion sensor alert.
I'm at the window in two steps, scanning the treeline. Nothing visible. Too dark, too much cover. Sela's already moving, grabbing the Glock, checking the magazine. Her training is kicking in.
The sensor alerts again. Closer this time.
A vehicle is approaching the cabin. No headlights. Moving tactical.
I pull my sidearm, move to the light switch, and kill the interior lights. The cabin goes dark except for the laptop screen's faint glow.
"Bedroom," I say, voice low. "Away from windows. If they breach, you hold position and don't fire unless you have a clear shot. Understand?"
"Understood." No hesitation. No argument. She moves.
The sensor pulses a third time.
They're closing in.
I close the laptop, plunging the cabin into complete darkness. My eyes adjust fast, trained response from years of night operations. I can make out shapes now. Furniture, doorways, windows.
Outside, nothing but forest and shadows.
But they're coming. Moving up that access road without headlights because they don't want to announce their approach. Because they're professionals who know how to breach a target.
I press my back against the wall beside the door, weapon ready, breathing controlled.
The motion sensor signals again.
They're closer now.
My phone's in my pocket. One call and Finn will move, but I need to hold until he gets here. Hold against however many contractors Haywood sent to recover the evidence and eliminate Sela Mitchell.
The math isn't good. But the position is defensible and I've held worse.
They're almost here now.
Engine noise reaches me, faint but distinct. A V8, moving slow. They're not rushing. Not panicking. They're advancing with tactical precision.
I key the radio on my belt. An encrypted frequency. Finn will hear it even if I can't talk.
"Contact imminent," I say quietly. "Multiple hostiles. Cabin location. Need backup."
Finn's response comes through instantly. "On my way. Hold position."
"Copy."
They're right outside now.
The engine cuts off. The doors open. I count two, maybe three. Quiet closures, practiced movements.
Then I hear footsteps. Multiple sets. Moving through trees instead of straight up the road.
They're flanking. Coming at the cabin from different angles to prevent escape routes.
It's smart.
Also predictable.
I peer through the gap in the curtain. I see movement in the treeline. Two figures, combat gear, suppressed weapons. They're staging for the breach.