Chapter 6 - The Net Closes
The static hissed from the radio for a split second before a crisp, urgent voice broke through the speaker.
“Unit Four to Detective Callahan. Come in, Detective.”
Detective Callahan pressed the transmit button on her shoulder mic instantly. "Callahan here. Go ahead, dispatch."
“We have arrived at the target residence on Maple Street. Perimeter is secured. Front door was unlocked. Entering now to execute the apprehension.”
Lauren held her breath, every muscle in her body tensing to the breaking point. She pictured their living room—the cozy sofa where they used to watch movies together on Friday nights, the kitchen island where she had stood making pancakes just hours ago, completely unaware of the nightmare that had unfolded beneath her roof.
A minute ticked by in agonizing silence. The radio remained dead except for the faint, rhythmic hum of electronic transmission.
“Unit Four to Detective Callahan. Suspect is not inside the primary residence.”
Lauren’s heart skipped a beat. "Not there?" she gasped out loud.
Detective Callahan shot her a quick, silencing look before speaking into her mic. "Clarify, Unit Four. Is the house empty?"
“Negative, Detective. The house is warm, breakfast was just left on the stove—pancakes, coffee. Personal belongings, including his wallet and car keys, are sitting on the kitchen counter. But his vehicle is missing from the driveway, and a secondary patrol unit reports spotting his sedan heading north on Route 9 toward the state highway about twenty minutes ago.”
A cold shiver ran down Lauren’s spine. He fled.
Daniel knew. Even though he had acted calm, even though he had tried to play it off as a simple stomachache, some primal survival instinct must have told him that the truth was about to come to light. The moment Lauren rushed Ava to Dr. Bennett’s clinic that morning, Daniel must have realized his time ran out. He had abandoned his breakfast, grabbed his keys, and bolted.
"He’s running," Detective Callahan said, her voice turning razor-sharp. She immediately tapped her radio. "All units, be on the lookout for a dark blue sedan, license plate number 7-H-K-9, heading north on Route 9. Suspect is considered dangerous and a flight risk. Coordinate with state troopers to set up a roadblock at the county line immediately."
“Copy that, Detective. Roadblock units are deploying now.”
Detective Callahan clicked off the radio and turned back to Lauren, her expression a mix of professional reassurance and intense focus.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Hale. He can run, but he cannot escape the jurisdiction. Every highway camera, every patrol car, and every state trooper from here to the border is looking for his vehicle right now. He will be caught."
"What about the house?" Lauren asked, her mind racing. "If he left in a rush, is there anything there that can help the investigation? Any evidence?"
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"Our crime scene forensics team is already processing the residence," Detective Callahan replied. "Every inch of that house is going to be combed for forensic evidence. Whatever he tried to hide, whatever he tried to clean up, our specialists will find it. Your home is locked down tight."
At that exact moment, the heavy double doors of the family consultation room opened, and Dr. Marcus Vance stepped inside. He had removed his blood-stained surgical cap and mask, looking exhausted, with deep lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. But despite the weariness, there was a steady, resolute glint in his gaze.
