The night air was cool, carrying the scent of impending rain as Samuel drove us through Fairmount. Howie was restless in the back, a soft, anxious whimper escaping him every now and then. My canvas bag, containing DeWitt’s letter and the waste log photocopies, felt like a lead weight on my lap. We were on our way to a secure location Samuel knew, a place where we could digitize everything without fear of being tracked.
Suddenly, bright blue and red lights flared in my rearview mirror, slicing through the darkness. The familiar silhouette of a police cruiser materialized behind us. My heart leaped into my throat.
“It’s Captain Brody,” I gasped, recognizing the name Samuel had warned me about. “He’s Hallowell’s man.”
Samuel gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He pulled the sedan slowly to the curb. The cruiser’s spotlight beam slammed into the back of our car, blindingly bright.
“Stay calm,” Samuel murmured, his voice tight.
Brody approached the driver’s side window, his face grim, illuminated by the flashing lights. He didn’t ask for license and registration. He didn’t offer a reason for the stop.
He just looked at me. “Elena Ross,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Step out of the vehicle.”
“On what grounds, Captain?” Samuel interjected, his voice surprisingly firm. “You haven’t stated a lawful reason for this stop.”
Brody ignored him, his eyes fixed on me, then dropping pointedly to my canvas bag. “The Council President knows you were in the basement archives, Ms. Ross,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet utterly chilling. “He knows what you found.”
He yanked open my door. “Now, hand over the bag.” His hand reached for the strap.
“You don’t have a warrant for this,” I protested, pulling the bag closer. The heavy papers inside felt like they might tear through the canvas.
“I don’t need one,” Brody snarled, his eyes glinting in the flashing lights. “Consider this a retrieval of city property. You’re a person of interest in a series of municipal security breaches.”
He tried to pry the bag from my grip, his fingers brushing mine. His face was inches from mine, a cold, predatory mask. “Hallowell wants to send a message. You think you can expose him? He’ll ensure you never reach a courtroom. This is where it ends, Ms. Ross.”
His words hung in the air, a chilling promise. The traffic on Fairmount Avenue seemed to slow, rubberneckers craning their necks. Brody’s grip on my bag tightened, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he would simply rip it from me.
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