I recognized my ex-husband Marcus the second he stepped out of room 1402 at the Grand Monarch Hotel, holding hands with his new fiancé.
The rain was coming down in sheets, turning 79th Street into a blurred watercolor of flashing red and blue lights. Tactical officers, indistinguishable in their dark gear, swarmed Devonne’s South Shore apartment building. Commander Hollis, a grim shadow in the downpour, shouted orders from below.
Inside the apartment, chaos reigned. Devonne, armed with two handguns, laid down suppressive fire through the shattered windows, targeting the officers swarming the building entrance.
“Go! Lisa, go!” he yelled over the din of gunshots and breaking glass. “Fire escape, now!”
I clutched my swollen belly, adrenaline surging through me. The rusted fire escape, wet and slick with rain, loomed outside the window. I scrambled through, the cold metal biting into my hands.
Each step down was a terrifying plunge. My heavy uniform, soaked from the rain, made me clumsy. The metal creaked under my weight. Below, the alleyway was a muddy, trash-strewn mess.
Midway down, my foot slipped on a wet rung. I cried out, my body twisting. My hand flew out, instinctively trying to regain balance. The small, external hard drive, clutched tightly in my other hand, flew from my grasp.
It hit the wet concrete with a dull thud, then skittered across the grimy pavement. Before I could even register the loss, it plunged with a soft splash into the dark, churning water of an open storm drain. It was gone.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The primary evidence drive. Malik’s files, the leads to Duke’s operations, all swallowed by the Chicago sewer system.
From a third-floor window of the adjacent building, Commander Hollis, his face illuminated by the distant police lights, spotted me. His eyes narrowed.
“There she is!” he roared into his radio, pointing a gloved finger. “Pregnant female, fire escape! Sweep the surrounding blocks! Don’t let her get away!”
I reached the ground, landing hard in the mud. My ankles protested, but I ignored the pain, scrambling over overflowing dumpsters. The shouts of officers, the blare of sirens, grew closer. I was exposed, vulnerable, and soaking wet. My primary evidence was lost, and the chase was on.
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