Frank looked at the storage units.
Something had been removed from B-17 six years earlier. Hale had known about it. And someone had recently begun warning them away from the search.
They were not going to solve anything by standing in the parking lot.
But they could at least find out whether the facility had kept records elsewhere.
Frank returned to the office and asked the manager to preserve all documents related to the account. He also requested the name of the storage facility's former owner, who might remember the transaction.
The manager agreed to cooperate with a formal police inquiry.
As the three men walked toward their motorcycles, Hector's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
Raymond.
He answered.
What's up?
Raymond's voice came through urgently.
Where are you?
At the storage facility.
Get out of there.
Hector stopped walking.
Why?
Because somebody just called the clubhouse asking for Frank. They said if we keep digging into Daniel, the next warning won't be written on paper.
Frank took the phone.
Who called?
Blocked number.
What exactly did they say?
Raymond repeated the threat.
Frank looked toward the entrance.
A car had parked beside the office.
Two men stood near it, watching them.
One wore a dark jacket and a baseball cap.
The same description Sarah had given.
Frank felt the world narrow.
Get on your bikes, he said.
Marcus didn't argue.
They moved quickly but calmly. Frank watched the two men as he unlocked his motorcycle.
One of them raised a phone and took a photograph.
Then he smiled.
It was not a friendly smile.
Frank started his engine.
The three riders left the facility without stopping.
They had traveled less than two miles when a dark sedan pulled out from a side road behind them.
It followed at a distance.
Marcus noticed it first.
Same car?
Could be.
Hector checked his mirrors.
We should head toward the police station.
Frank nodded.
They changed direction.
The sedan followed.
At the next intersection, a pickup truck appeared from a side street and moved into the lane ahead of them. It slowed abruptly, forcing the motorcycles to brake.
Frank felt his rear tire skid.
He corrected the bike and moved toward the shoulder, narrowly avoiding a collision.
Marcus shouted something over the engines.
The pickup accelerated away.
The sedan remained behind them.
Frank's heart hammered.
This was no longer an attempt to intimidate them with anonymous messages.
Someone was willing to create a dangerous situation on the road.
They reached a busy commercial street and pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store. Frank immediately called the police and reported the incident.
The dispatcher asked whether anyone was injured.
No.
Do you have a description of the vehicles?
Frank provided the details.
An officer was sent to take their statements.
The sedan had disappeared.
As they waited, Marcus walked back and forth beside the motorcycles.
That was deliberate.
Yes, Frank said.
They could have killed us.
Yes.
And you still want to keep looking?
Frank looked at him.
Marcus's face was hard with anger.
But beneath the anger, Frank saw something else.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For the people who might become involved if they continued.
Frank understood.
We can stop, he said.
Marcus looked at him in surprise.
What?
We can stop. We can give everything we've found to the police and let them decide what to do.
Hector joined them.
Would that be enough?
I don't know.
Frank stared at the street.
The police officer arrived and took their statements. He promised to review the facility's records and look into the vehicles described by the witnesses.
He also advised them not to conduct further investigations themselves.
Frank agreed.
For the first time since the diner, he considered the possibility that helping Noah might mean walking away from the search.
The boy had asked for one hour.
He had never asked the Iron Wolves to solve his father's disappearance.
He had never asked them to risk their lives.
Frank was still wrestling with the decision when his phone rang.
The number belonged to Sarah.
He answered immediately.
Sarah?
Her voice was shaking.
Noah is missing.
For one terrible second, Frank couldn't understand the words.
What do you mean, missing?
He was supposed to stay after school for a reading group. The teacher says he left with someone who claimed I had asked them to pick him up.
Frank felt the blood drain from his face.
Did they see the person?
A man. Dark jacket. Baseball cap.
The same man.
Frank gripped the phone.
Sarah, listen to me. Call the police immediately. Tell them everything about the visitor this morning and the man who approached the school.
I already called them!
Good. Stay where you are. Don't go anywhere alone.
Frank, please.
Her voice broke.
Please find my son.
Frank closed his eyes.
The seven dollars.
The badge.
The promise.
He had told Noah he would show up whenever the boy needed him.
Now someone had taken the child who had trusted him.
Frank looked at Marcus and Hector.
Neither man needed an explanation.
They were already moving toward their motorcycles.
The trap had finally closed.
And this time, it had not been designed for the Iron Wolves.
It had been designed for a nine-year-old boy.
The school was in chaos when Frank arrived.
Police vehicles blocked the main entrance. Teachers stood in small groups, answering questions. Parents gathered near the office, some angry, others frightened, all of them trying to understand how a child could disappear in the middle of an ordinary school day.
Sarah stood beside the principal, her face pale and her hands clenched.
The moment she saw Frank, she crossed the parking lot.
Where is he?
Frank shook his head.
We're going to find him.
You promised he'd be safe.
The accusation struck him harder than she intended.