For now, all he could do was wait for the people with warrants, radios, and a plan to reach the man in the photograph.
For now, waiting was an act of courage.
The call came at 5:18 the following morning. Detective Ellis told Daniel that investigators had found a likely location for the room in Marcus’s photograph. It was a storage building on the industrial edge of the city, leased through a company connected to Sloane’s network. The team was preparing to execute a warrant.
“Stay where you are,” Ellis emphasized. “Do not drive toward the location. If we find Marcus, we’ll notify his family and arrange medical care.”
Daniel stood in Rachel’s kitchen, gripping the phone. “Is he alive?”
“We have reason to believe he was there recently. That is all I can tell you right now.”
The line went quiet. Daniel thanked her and ended the call, then stared at the table until Rachel came downstairs.
“They found him?” she asked.
“They found a place he may be.”
“That’s something.”
“It’s not enough.”
“No,” she said. “But it’s something.”
Daniel tried to eat breakfast and failed. He walked from the kitchen to the living room, then back again. Rachel finally handed him a dish towel and pointed at the counter.
“If you need to move, dry the dishes.”
He looked at her, incredulous.
“You heard me.”
He dried every dish in the rack, even the ones that were already dry. The task gave his hands something to do while his mind raced through possibilities. He imagined Marcus being led out of the building, injured but alive. He imagined an empty room and another trail that vanished into the city. He forced himself to stop building scenes he could not verify.
At 7:03, Ellis called again. The warrant had been executed. The storage building contained equipment, folding chairs, a portable lighting rig, and several documents relating to private events. Marcus was not there. Neither was Rourke. A man working as a caretaker had been detained for questioning, but he claimed he had only been hired to maintain the property and knew nothing about any fights.
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Did you find anything else?” he asked.
“We found a second phone and a schedule with dates and initials. The forensic team is examining them. We also found signs that someone had occupied a small room recently, but it had been cleaned.”
“Then they moved him.”
“That’s one possibility. We’re checking nearby properties and reviewing traffic cameras.”
Daniel thanked her, though the words felt hollow. The warrant had produced evidence, but Marcus remained missing. The people behind the operation had learned that the police were closing in, and they were adapting.
At nine, a news alert appeared online. A short article reported that police had searched a storage building as part of an investigation into suspected illegal fight events. It did not name Sloane, Rourke, or Marcus. Within minutes, a local sports account posted a photograph of Daniel from his championship days, asking whether “The Ghost” was preparing a comeback.
The timing was too neat to be accidental.
Kevin called. “They’re trying to turn the search into a story about you. Someone’s feeding the sports pages.”
“Let them.”
“It could damage your reputation.”
“My reputation won’t matter if they can prove what they’re doing.”
“True. But don’t underestimate how fast a lie can spread.”
Daniel opened the post. Comments had already divided into camps. Some praised him. Others accused him of being involved in underground fights. One account claimed he had been seen near Iron Harbor, though Daniel had never gone there. Another said he was using the police to settle a personal dispute.
He closed the page. He would not spend the day arguing with strangers.
At midday, Detective Ellis asked him to review a list of names found in the warehouse. Daniel recognized two former fighters and a promoter who had vanished from the regional circuit years earlier. He gave Ellis the details he knew, carefully separating personal memories from rumor. One name stopped him cold: Adrian Voss, a trainer who had once worked with Daniel before his first title fight.
“Voss was connected to Rourke?” Daniel asked.
“We’re still establishing the relationships,” Ellis said. “Why does that name matter?”
“He trained me for a short time. He was strict, but fair. He left the circuit suddenly. I heard he moved overseas.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“No.”
Ellis wrote it down. “We’ll check.”
That evening, Lily asked if they could return home. Rachel’s house was safe, but Lily missed her bedroom, her books, and the view from her window. Daniel explained that they would wait until the police said it was safe. She accepted the answer, but her disappointment was plain.
“I don’t like having to leave my things,” she said.
“I know.”
“I don’t like people deciding where I can sleep.”
Daniel crouched beside her. “Neither do I. I’m sorry this is happening.”
“Did you do something bad when you were a fighter?”
The question startled him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because the people keep talking about your past.”
Daniel sat beside her. “I made mistakes. I was proud, and I thought being strong meant I had to handle everything alone. I didn’t always listen to people who were trying to help me. But I never agreed to hurt someone for money outside the rules of a real competition.”
“Did you hurt people in the ring?”
“Yes.”
“Did you want to?”
“Sometimes I wanted to win more than I wanted to understand what winning cost. That’s one reason I stopped.”
Lily was quiet for a long time. “I’m glad you stopped.”
“So am I.”
Later that night, Daniel received a call from an unknown number. He did not answer, but a voicemail arrived almost immediately. The voice was different from Rourke’s—rougher, strained, and low enough that the words were nearly swallowed.
“Mr. Mercer, my name is Adrian Voss. If you’re hearing this, they’ve found the storage building. I can help you understand what’s happening, but you need to know that Sloane isn’t the only person involved. Rourke has a partner inside the operation who wants you at the event for a reason that has nothing to do with fighting.”