As soon as my feet hit the ground, my gaze zeroes in on a wiry guy dressed in shades of gray and black, and wearing a baseball cap. He runs toward the alley between two apartment blocks.
I take off after him. The sun glints off something metallic under his arm—my laptop.
A loud snarl rumbles up from inside me. I sprint. Between apartment blocks, across parking lots, between cars and onto busy sidewalks.
I’m fast, but he’s faster. Lighter. My side cramps, but I push through the pain. When it seems like I might be gaining on him, he changes course, ducking between parked cars into oncoming traffic.
Tires screech. I stop running and spin around just in time to plant my hands on the hood of a red Honda Odyssey.
The woman behind the wheel honks the horn and flips me off.
Panting, I step back onto the sidewalk and scan the street, the walkways, the buildings across the street.
The guy and my laptop are both gone.
“Fuck,” I mutter, my chest heaving. That asshole was just rummaging around in my home, where I sleep—where Holly sleeps.
Rage fills me like air rushing into a vacuum. I close my eyes and take a second to calm myself. I need to think. What’s on my laptop that this guy was so damn hard for that he’d risk breaking into a cop’s house to get it?
Case files, obviously, but any department-issued laptop has access to those. Photos of DBs and notes about how all the cases link up? Maybe, but a lot of those cases were reported on, so most of that info is publicly available.
No, it’s gotta be the hidden camera footage from King’s pedo party. Which means the guy I just chased for over half a mile has to be working for either the reverend or Russell King.
I make the jog back to my truck. Holly yelps as I open the passenger-side door, then sighs with relief.
“You scared me,” she said.
“Sorry, sweetheart.” I help her out of the truck and into my arms.
“I saw you chase after someone,” she says. “What did he take?”
“My laptop, which just so happens to have footage from the party.”
“You were filming that night?” She blushes.
“I wanted visual proof of the reverend attending one of King’s sex parties. But someone tipped him off, so he never showed. Thankfully, I already handed off a copy of the footage to my partner yesterday...”
A sinking feeling takes root in my gut. I pull my phone out and call Abby’s cell. It goes to voicemail. I hang up and try again.
The third time I call, she picks up. “Larkin, I swear to God—”
“I know I’m the last person you want to talk to right now,” I say, “but I just need you to answer one question. The flash drive I gave you with the footage from Russell King’s house. Where is it?”
“It’s in my desk. Where else would it be?”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“What do you mean, am I sure? I locked it in my desk, like you told me.”
“Can you please go check for me?”
She scoffs. “Sure, I’ll just drop everything and—”
“I’m not fuckin’ around, Abby. Someone broke into my apartment and stole my laptop. I need to know if that flash drive is safe.”
There’s a long pause on the other end.
She sighs. “Give me one second.”
I reach for Holly’s hand as I wait for Abby to jump back on the call. My little girl curls against me, pressing her brow to my chest. I pet her hair and hold her tight, keeping my eye out for any sign of the intruder.
“It’s gone,” Abby says, sounding incredulous. “Holy shit, it’s just gone.”
My stomach twists into a tight knot. I exhale through my teeth.
“Still think I’m not making any sense?”
“Fuck, Cal... I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Listen, don’t tell Harris about the missing drive until I call back. We don’t know how far up the chain this goes, or how low, for that matter.”
“You think Harris could be in on it?” she asks in a hushed whisper.
“I’m not ruling anyone out. Just keep your ear to the ground.”
I end the call, my mind running in circles and tripping over itself. I need a cup of coffee. I need to lie down. I need to figure out what the hell our next step is.
“Cal,” Holly says, “if you were filming, then that means you have footage of Kenzie at the party. Proof that we were both there that night.”
“Right now, all I have is confirmation that someone in the department is trying to sabotage this investigation.” Which means whatever step I take next can’t involve anyone from the department.
It’ll have to involve people I can trust. Folks who won’t bat an eye at a little vigilante justice.
I swipe through my contacts until I find the number I’m looking for.