Chapter 6
Detective Ortiz wanted Emma transferred to a secure location.
I wanted the same thing.
Emma did not.
“They always find me,” she said.
She sat between us in a hospital conference room, wrapped in a gray blanket.
“They found me at home. They found me here.”
“We’ll have more officers,” Ortiz said.
“Mark dresses like an officer.”
That changed the room.
“When?” I asked.
“At the house. Before you came home.”
Emma explained that Mark had visited wearing a sheriff’s uniform.
Ryan introduced him as a friend who would keep everyone safe.
Emma had seen the uniform again in the black SUV.
“He told me police would take you away,” she whispered.
Ortiz contacted her department.
No uniform had been reported missing.
That meant Mark had obtained or created one.
A secure police facility could be more dangerous if we did not know who had been compromised.
Colonel Hayes offered military housing on base.
NCIS approved.
Emma and I were transported in separate vehicles as a precaution.
We arrived shortly before sunset.
The temporary quarters had controlled access, cameras, and armed guards.
For the first time since opening my front door, I allowed myself to breathe.
Emma showered.
I helped her dress in clean clothes.
Then she asked a question I could not answer.
“Does Dad love me?”
I sat beside her on the bed.
“He should have protected you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I think he loves you in the only way he knows how. But what he did was not love.”
“Did he love Vanessa more?”
“This was not about you being less important.”
“It feels like it.”
I pulled her close.
“I know.”
She cried until she fell asleep against me.
I remained there for several minutes.
Then I stepped into the hall, where Ortiz and Agent Brooks waited.
“We’re not sending you to the marina,” Brooks said.
“They requested me and the recorder.”
“Which is why you’re the bait.”
“I can help identify the person behind this.”
“Or get killed.”
Ortiz opened a map on her tablet.
“We can secure the pier before midnight. Tactical officers will cover every exit.”
“They’ll expect that.”
“Of course.”
“We should give them what they think they want.”
Brooks frowned.
“What are you suggesting?”
“A controlled exchange.”
“No.”
“Mark has escaped twice. Margaret has the phone. Vanessa knows who hired her. If they believe the recorder proves Thomas suspected them, they will try to destroy it.”
“They may also try to destroy you.”
“I know.”
Brooks looked toward Emma’s door.
“If this goes wrong, that child loses both parents.”
“If we do nothing, whoever copied my access card still has information about four military families.”
That ended his immediate objection.
By ten, a plan had been approved.
A duplicate recorder would contain a tracker.
I would wear a concealed microphone.
Tactical teams would control the marina from surrounding buildings and boats.
I was not armed.
That condition came from Brooks.
I accepted it.
At eleven thirty, a secure vehicle took me toward Chula Vista.
Rain began falling.
Not heavy.
Just enough to blur lights and cover small sounds.
Pier nineteen stretched into black water.
The boat Second Chance sat at the far end.
A dim light glowed inside the cabin.
I carried the recorder in my right hand.
“Walk normally,” Ortiz whispered through my earpiece.
I moved onto the pier.
Halfway down, Margaret stepped from behind a storage building.
Her hair was wet.
Her face looked twenty years older.
“Stop.”
I stopped.
“Where is Mark?”
“He has Ryan.”
“Ryan is in custody.”
“Not anymore.”
I stared at her.
“He was transported to county booking. The van was attacked.”
Ortiz’s voice entered my ear.
“We’re checking.”
Margaret began crying.
“They’ll kill him.”
“Who?”
“The people Vanessa works for.”
“Who are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have been involved with them for eight years.”
“I borrowed money after Thomas got sick.”
“And sold information about me?”
“I never sold anything.”
“Then why did Vanessa visit Thomas?”
Margaret covered her mouth.
“I only told her you were in the military. She became interested when you moved into intelligence logistics.”
My role involved planning and supply coordination.
Most of it was not glamorous.
But the right schedules could reveal where personnel and equipment would move.
“Thomas found out,” I said.
“He threatened to tell you.”
“So you let them kill him.”
“No!”
Her denial echoed across the water.
A light appeared on the boat.
A man stepped onto the deck.
Mark.
He held a pistol.
Ryan stood in front of him with his hands bound.
Blood covered one side of Ryan’s face.
“Mom!” Ryan shouted.
Margaret moved toward him.
I caught her arm.
“Stay here.”
Mark pressed the weapon against Ryan’s neck.
“Bring the recorder.”
I kept walking.
Ortiz whispered, “We have a shot.”
“No,” I murmured.
Mark heard me.
“Take out that earpiece.”
I removed it and dropped it into the water.
Now the tactical team could hear through my hidden microphone, but I could not hear them.
Mark pulled Ryan onto the pier.
“Set the recorder down.”
“Where is Vanessa?”
“Safe.”
“Who hired her?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“You went after five families. That means this is bigger than Ryan’s stolen money.”
Mark smiled.
“Ryan was useful. Weak men usually are.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“Tell her,” I said.
“Shut up,” Mark snapped.
“Vanessa already blamed him. Margaret is ready to run. Your plan is collapsing.”
“Put down the recorder.”
I placed it on the pier.
Mark kicked it toward himself.
The tracker was now within ten feet of the boat.
He forced Ryan to his knees.
Margaret screamed.
“Please! We did what you asked.”
Mark looked at her with disgust.
“You did what we paid you to do.”
There it was.
The admission.
Margaret had sold us out.
Ryan looked at his mother.
“You said you were protecting the family.”
“I was.”
“You gave them Emily’s records.”
“I was trying to save your house.”
“Our house?” I asked. “Or your debt?”
Mark laughed.
“She gave us everything. Your travel dates. Your daughter’s school. Copies of holiday photographs.”
Margaret collapsed against a post.
Ryan stared at her as if seeing her for the first time.
Then a red light blinked inside the boat.
Mark’s smile vanished.
He checked his phone.
“What did you do?”
The tracker had activated.
He raised the gun toward me.
Before he could fire, Ryan drove his shoulder into Mark’s legs.
The shot exploded across the marina.
Ryan fell.
Mark stumbled backward.
Tactical officers emerged from both ends of the pier.
“Drop the weapon!”
Mark grabbed my coat and pulled me in front of him.
His arm locked around my throat.
The pistol pressed beneath my jaw.
“Back off!”
The officers stopped.
Ryan lay motionless.
Margaret crawled toward him.
Mark dragged me toward the boat.
“You ruined everything,” he whispered.
“No. You chose a weak plan.”
He tightened his grip.
“You’re trying to make me angry.”
“I’m trying to keep you talking.”
His body stiffened.
He finally understood.
The microphone.
Mark tore open my coat.
That moment was enough.
I trapped his gun wrist with both hands, turned under his arm, and drove him into the pier.
The pistol slid across the wet boards.
Officers rushed forward.
Mark fought until three men forced him into handcuffs.
Paramedics reached Ryan.
The bullet had struck his shoulder.
He was alive.
As they lifted him, an explosion tore through Second Chance.
Flames shot into the sky.
The force threw everyone to the pier.
The boat split near the cabin.
A burning figure appeared briefly behind the window.
May you like
A woman.
Vanessa.
