Chapter 15 - The Badge Inside the Network
I didn’t lower my weapon immediately.
That might sound cold.
But a frightened teenager had just appeared from a motel bathroom claiming someone in law enforcement wanted her dead.
Every instinct I had told me the next sixty seconds mattered.
“Jenna, keep your hands where I can see them.”
She nodded.
“Is anyone else in the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Any weapons?”
“No.”
I moved slowly, checked the room, then keyed my radio.
“Morales, come in personally. Nobody else enters.”
A pause.
Then her voice.
“Copy.”
Jenna’s eyes widened.
“You called someone.”
“Someone I trust.”
“That’s what Katherine said people always say before they disappear.”
The sentence hit harder than she probably intended.
Morales entered thirty seconds later.
I locked the door behind her.
Jenna stared at her badge.
“Detective Sarah Morales,” Morales said. “I’m going to show you my identification, then put it away.”
She did exactly that.
No sudden movements.
No questions shouted across the room.
Slowly, Jenna’s shoulders relaxed.
“How did you escape?” I asked.
“I ran.”
“From where?”
“A house outside Medford.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“And nobody found you?”
“I didn’t use my real name. I didn’t know my real name.”
She pointed toward the photograph.
“Katherine told me after.”
“You met Katherine?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Morales leaned forward.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She sent you here?”
“Rebecca did.”
“Who is Rebecca?”
“The document lady.”
I exchanged a look with Morales.
The video had been real.
Jenna sat on the edge of the bed.
“When I escaped, I slept behind a grocery store for two nights. Then a woman from a church helped me. I told her my name was Emily Carter because that’s what everyone called me.”
“What made Rebecca find you?”
“I tried to replace my Social Security card. The number flagged somewhere.”
Jenna rubbed her hands together.
“Rebecca contacted me before the police did.”
Morales’s expression hardened.
“That shouldn’t be possible.”
“Unless someone inside the government system alerts the network,” I said.
Jenna nodded.
“That’s what Rebecca said.”
I crouched several feet away.
“Jenna, you said a police officer is watching this motel.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Uniform?”
“No. Brown jacket. Gray truck.”
Morales went immediately to the window and moved the curtain half an inch.
Across the parking lot sat a gray pickup.
One man inside.
Our surveillance team had reported him as a motel guest.
I quietly transmitted the description to Reeves.
Within thirty seconds, plainclothes federal agents moved toward the truck.
The engine started.
“Vehicle moving!” someone shouted over the radio.
Tires screamed outside.
The pickup shot across the parking lot, smashed through a wooden barrier, and accelerated toward the freeway.
Agents pursued.
Jenna flinched violently.
I stayed beside her.
“Look at me. You’re safe in this room.”
“No one’s safe.”
“You are right now.”
She stared into my eyes as if testing whether she believed me.
Then Morales’s radio crackled.
“Suspect vehicle crashed two miles south. Driver fleeing on foot.”
A second transmission followed.
“Suspect in custody.”
Twenty minutes later, Reeves called.
The man carried two driver’s licenses.
One fake.
One real.
His real identity was Lieutenant Mark Harlan.
Twenty-two years in law enforcement.
Former county narcotics officer.
Currently employed by the Oregon Department of Public Safety.
Morales whispered a curse.
I understood why.
Harlan had access to interagency databases.
Missing-person reports.
School records.
Protective-custody addresses.
He could warn the network whenever investigators got too close.
Jenna began crying quietly.
Not dramatic sobbing.
Just silent tears.
“He found me again.”
“But he didn’t take you.”
“He always finds us.”
I sat across from her.
“Not this time.”
She looked toward me.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know he’s in handcuffs.”
For the first time, her expression changed.
A tiny fragment of hope.
Morales’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Reeves?”
She listened.
Her face slowly drained of color.
“What do you mean?”
Another pause.
Then she looked at me.
“Harlan had a burner phone.”
“So?”
“There’s one recent message.”
“What does it say?”
Morales swallowed.
“It says: KATHERINE MOVES TONIGHT.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“They don’t know.”
Jenna suddenly looked toward us.
“I do.”
Morales turned.
“How?”
Jenna wiped her cheeks.
“Because Katherine told Rebecca where she’d go if everything fell apart.”
“Where?”
May you like
Jenna whispered two words.
“Black Pine.”
