“Thank you for coming.”
“Where's the recording?”
Lawson handed it to her.
Elena examined the pouch without opening it.
“Is this the original?”
“No. It's a copy.”
“Where is the original?”
“In a secure location.”
“Who knows?”
“Whitmore. Mitchell. The mayor probably suspects.”
Elena's expression became serious.
“Then we need to move quickly.”
She turned to her colleague.
“Photograph the room. Document the transfer. Secure the evidence.”
Another investigator approached Lawson.
“Chief, we need you to come with us.”
Lawson nodded.
As he gathered his belongings, a voice came from the doorway.
“Where do you think you're going?”
Everyone turned.
Deputy Chief Mitchell stood in the corridor.
Behind him were two uniformed officers.
Elena stepped forward.
“Deputy Chief Mitchell, please remain where you are.”
Mitchell looked at Lawson.
“Are you really doing this?”
Lawson met his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You don't know what you're unleashing.”
“I know exactly what I'm unleashing.”
Mitchell's gaze shifted toward Elena.
“Do you have a warrant?”
Elena held up her identification.
“We have legal authority to secure evidence connected to an active state investigation. You are not being detained at this moment, but you are required to cooperate with the evidence-preservation process.”
Mitchell laughed bitterly.
“Evidence preservation. That's what you call it?”
“That's what it is.”
Mitchell took a step forward.
One of the state investigators moved between him and Lawson.
“Don't come any closer.”
Mitchell stopped.
Then he looked at the chief one last time.
“You're making a mistake.”
Lawson's voice was steady.
“No. I made a mistake ten years ago when I stayed silent.”
Elena escorted Lawson toward the elevator.
As the doors closed, Mitchell remained in the corridor, watching.
His expression was no longer angry.
It was calculating.
He reached into his pocket and took out his phone.
A moment later, he sent a short message.
The recording has been secured. Begin the contingency plan.
At 9:16 a.m., Marcus received a call from an unknown number.
He answered cautiously.
“Marcus Bennett.”
A woman's voice came through.
“Mr. Bennett, my name is Rebecca Reed.”
Marcus immediately sat upright.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes. I was told you were investigating my father's disappearance.”
Marcus glanced at Margaret, who was still sitting across from him.
“Who gave you my number?”
“Someone who knew my father. He said you were finally asking the questions nobody wanted answered.”
Marcus chose his words carefully.
“We have reason to believe your father was trying to expose corruption involving city officials and members of the police department.”
Rebecca was silent.
Then she asked, “Did you find the recording?”
Marcus's expression changed.
“What do you know about a recording?”
“My father told me about it before he disappeared.”
Marcus leaned closer to the phone.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“He said that if anything happened to him, I should remember one thing. The truth wasn't in the police station. It was in the place where the city kept its old promises.”
Marcus looked at David, who had just entered the café.
“Do you know what that means?”
“I think so,” Rebecca replied.
“What?”
“The old redevelopment archive.”
Marcus's heart began to beat faster.
“Where is it?”
“Beneath the former municipal records building. My father used to say that the city kept two sets of records. One for the public and one for the people who paid to keep secrets.”
David pulled out a notebook.
“Rebecca, can you tell us whether your father left anything there?”
“I don't know. But he gave me a key when I was twelve. He told me to keep it safe and never show it to anyone unless a man named Paul Mercer came looking for it.”
“Do you still have the key?” Marcus asked.
“Yes.”
“Can we meet?”
“I'll meet you. But I need to know something first.”
“Go ahead.”
“Is the mayor involved?”
Marcus looked at the papers in front of him.
“We have evidence that raises serious questions about his involvement.”
Rebecca took a shaky breath.
“Then I want to come forward.”
Margaret reached across the table and gently touched Marcus's arm.
He understood what she was thinking.
Another family had been waiting years for someone to listen.
“Rebecca,” Marcus said, “we'll make sure you're protected. You won't have to face this alone.”
“Thank you.”
The call ended.
Marcus looked at David.
“The archive.”
David nodded.
“If Thomas Reed hid something there, it could be the missing piece.”
Marcus looked toward Margaret.
“We need to go.”
Margaret stood.
“Then go. And please, don't let them bury this again.”