Chapter Thirty-Three
Chris slouched on the couch, remote in hand, the drone of the press conference fading into background noise. His TV was tuned to the local news, where a suited DA had just made polished remarks on the courthouse steps, praising due process, community cooperation, and departmental transparency.
No one from Walker and Doyle had attended. He had only watched to see Isabela. Her absence landed harder than he expected.
His phone buzzed incessantly, lighting up the dark glass coffee table.
He leaned forward and swiped through them.
There were messages from former partners, a few old academy friends, the guys at the precinct.
Some texted in all caps, some with GIFs of celebratory fireworks, all congratulating him like this was a championship game and he’d just sunk the buzzer-beater.
Beth: SOOOO PROUD OF YOU! You’re our hero Uncle Chris.
He smiled faintly, warmth cracking through the numb shell around him. But one message never came. The one he was waiting for. The one from Isabela.
He hadn’t heard from her since Thursday.
Not since she’d stood in that conference room and stripped him bare.
Maybe she was giving him space or was too busy with damage control.
Perhaps she just didn’t care. Shit, maybe the only reason she had even gotten close to him was to get enough info to win the case.
The phone rang. Chris checked the caller ID and swiped right to answer.
“It’s almost like you think we’re best friends,” he said.
“Where are you?” Randall’s voice was sharp.
Chris sat up straighter, the smile dying. “At the townhouse. Why?”
“We just got an anonymous tip. A vehicle matching the description of the one used in Marcus Walker’s hit and run and Isabela’s accident was found. It was behind an abandoned factory not far from the stadium. Near where we ran last week.”
Chris exhaled hard. “Damn. Were they able to get a plate? Any prints?”
“No. But the front was dented to shit. A metal grille installed over the damage I’m assuming was cause by the Walker hit and run. The real doozy is that the building it was parked behind is registered to a shell company. That company is owned by Lorenzo Torres.”
Chris’s heart stuttered. Isabela.
He stood up so fast the remote hit the floor. “I need to find her.”
Just as he turned to grab his keys, his doorbell rang.
“Hold on,” he told Randall, keeping the call open as he crept toward the peephole. When he looked outside, he almost dropped the phone.
It was Isabela and something was very wrong. She stood stiff, eyes wide and glassy, sweat clinging to her temples. She looked terrified.
Chris’s instincts screamed.
“She’s at my door,” he whispered into the phone. “But something’s off. Stay on the line.”
He shoved the phone into his back pocket and opened the door cautiously.
“Isabela...” he didn’t get to finish.
A gun pressed hard against his temple. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris caught the face.
Keith Stewart, the Torres family’s loyal shadow.
He stood just beyond the peephole’s line of sight, calculating, waiting.
Chris guessed that same barrel had been aimed at Isabela until the moment he opened the door.
“Inside. Now,” the man barked.
Adrenaline flooding, Chris reached for Isabela. The muzzle swung toward her.
“Don’t try anything,” Keith snapped. “Or she gets shot first.”
Chris stepped back, hands high. “Okay. Okay.”
Chris was ordered to enter the townhouse first. Isabela was next, her breathing sharp and shallow. Keith followed, kicking the door shut behind him.
Chris’s mind raced. Randall was still on the phone. If he could stall just a little longer...
“Keith, please,” Isabela’s voice cracked. “You don’t need to do this.”
“This is all your fault.” Spit flecked from Keith’s mouth. “I hope your family’s ashamed of you. A traitor. You sold us out.”
She flinched at his words, visibly shaken.
“The Torres family is all I have,” he bellowed. “You think I wanted this? If Macklin had just taken the fall, Hector’s secrets would’ve died with him. But no. He had to get you involved. You just couldn’t stop digging.”
“Why?” she demanded, voice shaking. “Why cover for him?”
Keith’s jaw clenched. “You think Hector pulled all that off alone? He had the mental acuity of a ten year old. Do you really believe he could run that operation solo?”
Isabela looked like she’d been punched.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “You helped him?”
"No," Keith snarled, spitting onto the hardwood floor.
"I would never lay a hand on a kid. Lorenzo gave the orders. I was the one cleaning up the messes, over and over. If the truth gets out, we all go down with him. The government just handed his company a multimillion-dollar deal. You think they’ll honor it if his name gets dragged through the mud? "
Chris’s muscles tensed.
“That meeting was a liability,” Keith said, mostly too himself. “Marcus made your boyfriend look like a hero. We knew you’d uncover too much. So, we had to scare you off.”
Chris shot Isabela a look of devastation. She looked back, stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief and horror. This man who’d tried to end her life was now standing in his home, ready to finish the job. There was nothing between them but a few feet of space and a loaded weapon.
Keith raised the gun again, the barrel steady between them. “You wouldn’t stop,” he hissed. “Someone inside the department’s been sniffing around Lorenzo’s past. You really thought we wouldn’t notice?”
Chris didn’t hesitate. “That was me,” he said flatly.
Isabela turned her head sharply toward him. “Chris...” she whispered.
He kept his eyes locked on Keith, every muscle in his body braced.
“After Marcus got hit, I started putting it together.
I knew something was off. So, I used my credentials.
I ran queries, accessed archived arrest records, cross-referenced internal complaints that disappeared without explanation.
The red flags were everywhere. The kind of stuff you only find when you're already looking.”
Keith narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “You did all that by yourself?”
“Yes,” Chris answered immediately, his voice an unwavering rasp. “I didn’t trust anyone else. I didn’t even tell her.” He jerked his chin toward Isabela. “She had nothing to do with it. All she knew was what I gave her. I made sure of that. She never asked for more.”
Isabela’s breath hitched. She looked at him like she didn’t recognize him. He couldn’t afford to soften, not now.
Chris took a slow step forward, hands still raised. “If you’re pissed someone dug into Lorenzo’s background, look no further. You found your guy.”
He prayed Keith bought the lie, because if he didn’t, they were both dead.
Keith’s jaw clenched. The gun shifted, slightly, toward Isabela.
“She’s a goddamn attorney,” Chris’s voice tightened with urgency. “You think she'd hack into police servers? That she’d know where to start? She had no idea. She was doing her job ... it’s what I hired her to do.”
“Did you hire her to screw you too?” Keith didn’t wait for an answer. “Someone else had to help. Nobody uncovers that much, that fast. We were too careful,” he snapped.
“Bullshit,” Chris growled. “You think I needed help? I led investigations for a decade. I knew exactly what to look for. How to cover my trail. Nobody else touched a damn thing.”
Keith hesitated.
Chris took the opening. “You’re not protecting the Torres family anymore. You said you wouldn’t hurt innocents, but you’re ready to murder her?” he nodded at Isabela. “She’s innocent.”
“She’s a traitor and a threat,” Keith spat.
“All she cares about is a promotion and making partner. She screwed information out of me and doesn’t give a shit about how Lorenzo gets his hands dirty in his free time. If you kill me no one will care. Shit, they will probably blame me again. Kill her, you have the whole city out for you.”
Chris sensed Keith’s indecision and dug in.
“Let her walk away. She’s got no proof of anything Lorenzo did.
It would be your word, Lorenzo’s word, against hers, if she was dumb enough to talk.
You want retribution, take it out on me.
Hell, I’ll put the gun to my own head if that gets her out the door. ”
“No,” Isabela gasped.
He didn’t look at her because he couldn’t. Because if he did, he’d break. He’d beg. Then Keith would know exactly how to hurt him the most.
“I know what you’ve done,” Chris said to Keith, his tone lowering, steadying, “And you know what I’ve uncovered. You kill us both, that’s two more bodies and you still don’t know who else might come after Lorenzo next. You really think I didn’t back anything up?”
That got Keith’s attention.
Chris pushed further. “It’s done. The DA dropped the case. There’s nothing left for her to fight for. So let her go. Please.”
The word please tore from him, half a breath, half a prayer. If Keith was going to put a bullet in someone, it would be Chris. He’d take it gladly, if she walked out alive first.
Isabela stepped into his peripheral vision. “Keith, would you really go to jail for a man who tried to hurt his own niece?”
Chris gave her a stern look. He was so close to getting her out of here. She needed to keep quiet.
“I wanted to kill him when I found out,” Keith admitted, shaking his head. “Mariana cried for days. I warned Hector. Told him if he even looked at Andrea again, I’d bury him myself. As far as I know, he never touched her after that.”
“You should’ve let the truth come out,” she said.
“Too late for truth,” Keith lifted the gun.
Keith’s finger twitched on the trigger. The barrel swung between them, steady and lethal. Chris braced himself, every nerve screaming. He prayed Randall was still listening, because if help didn’t come now, one of them wasn’t leaving this room alive.