Chapter 4 - Into the Shadows
The text burned on the screen of my phone. The person holding Lauren's phone wasn't just hiding; they were actively watching the police perimeter. They could see the flashing lights, the staging area, and the officers moving into position near the timber yard's main gate.
I looked toward the river gate mentioned in the text. It was a rusted chain-link entrance tucked along the northern edge of the property, partially obscured by overgrown weeds and stacked wooden pallets. A single police cruiser was idling near the road, its headlights cutting through the falling rain.
I knew that if I alerted the police right at this second, whoever was inside might panic. Marcus—or whoever was holding that phone—was cornered, desperate, and watching the main force assemble at the front.
I moved quietly along the perimeter wall, staying in the deep shadows of the industrial buildings across the street. The rain hit the asphalt with a steady, dull roar, masking the sound of my footsteps. I reached the side fence near the river gate and looked through the mesh.
Inside the yard, illuminated only by a distant floodlight attached to a river barge, stood a dilapidated two-story office structure made of weathered wood and metal sheeting. Parked right beside it was a dark blue SUV—Marcus’s vehicle.
My heart was pounding in my ears. I pulled out my phone, took a quick screenshot of the text message, and sent it directly to Detective Harris with a short note: They are watching the river gate from the two-story office building. Blue SUV is parked beside it.
A second later, Harris replied: Hold your position. Do not enter. We are redirecting the tactical unit to the north fence now.
I held my breath, crouching low behind a stack of rotted pallets. Through the rain, I saw a flicker of light on the second floor of the office structure—the blue glow of a phone screen.
Someone was standing at the window, looking down at the road.
Suddenly, the side door of the wooden structure creaked open. A tall, gaunt man stepped out into the rain, holding a heavy flashlight in one hand and a phone in the other. Even through the darkness and downpour, I recognized the posture and the awkward, hurried gait.
It was Marcus.
He looked around frantically, his face pale and slick with rainwater. He wasn't acting like a mastermind; he was acting like a terrified fugitive. He hurried toward the dark blue SUV, opened the driver's side door, and pulled out a heavy duffel bag.
Then, from inside the lower floor of the wooden building, came a muffled sound—a dull thumping against wood, followed by a faint, strained voice.
"Marcus... please..."
It was Lauren.
Hearing her voice sent a sharp shock straight through my chest. She was alive. She was in the lower level of that building.
Marcus turned angrily toward the door. "Shut up, Lauren!" he yelled, his voice cracking with hysteria. "They're outside! I told you not to mess this up! If I don't get the signed deed to those guys by tonight, they're going to kill me!"
"You left my kids!" Her voice was weak, raspy, but furious. "You locked them in... you took my keys... Marcus, they're just children!"
"I sent them texts!" Marcus screamed back, clutching the duffel bag to his chest as rain poured down his face. "I kept them quiet! I was going to send an anonymous tip to David tomorrow after I got across the border! I had to buy time!"
He didn't care that they were six and nine. He didn't care that they had gone three days without food or water. To him, my children had been nothing more than variables in an equation designed to save his own skin from the loan sharks he had crossed.
Marcus turned back toward his SUV, throwing the bag into the passenger seat. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a set of car keys along with Lauren's phone. He prepared to jump into the driver's seat and make a run for the river exit before the police fully sealed the zone.
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If he drove out now, he would hit the police barricade, panic, and potentially bring the entire situation to a violent, bloody climax. Or worse, he might try to use the building—and Lauren inside it—as leverage.
I didn't wait for the tactical unit to finish their flank. I grabbed an iron pipe resting against the fence line, pushed open the unlatched service gate, and stepped onto the muddy ground of the timber yard.
