Chapter 4

"Let's go, Logan. Our ride is here."

Hailey's voice drifted in from the parking lot. I pushed open the restroom door and saw her and Logan heading toward a black Audi that had just pulled up, its hazard lights blinking.

Logan had already opened my trunk. He dragged the big suitcase out and started loading it into the Audi.

Then—he reached back into my trunk for the second bag.

The small, black hard-shell case.

As his hand touched the handle, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. Like he had touched hot metal.

Then, he lifted it as if nothing was wrong.

I spun around and ran back into the office.

"Officer Hayes!"

He was pouring a cup of coffee.

"There were two cases in my trunk. You guys only checked the large one. There's a smaller, black hard-shell case with no luggage tag. He's transferring it to that Audi right now."

He held his mug, looking at me skeptically.

"How do you know there's a second case?"

I shoved my phone in front of his face, zooming in on the photo.

"I took this through my rearview mirror. Look at the bottom right corner. That black edge is the second case. And look at the color of the liquid leaking under it."

He took the phone, squinting at the screen for several seconds.

"The resolution is pretty low—"

"There should be residue on my trunk liner. Send someone to check my car. The stains from the two bags will be different colors."

He set his coffee mug down.

He hesitated for a moment.

Then, he picked up his radio.

"Miller, don't close the trunk on that white Nissan yet. Check the liner. What color are the wet stains?"

The radio crackled, and Miller's voice came through.

Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute.

The radio buzzed again.

"Hayes, we've got two different stains here. The one on the left is yellowish and smells like old fish. The one on the right—"

A pause.

"It's bright pink. Like some kind of chemical pink. I've never seen anything like it."

Officer Hayes gripped the radio tightly.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked out. Logan was currently shoving the black case into the Audi's trunk while Hailey scrolled through her phone.

"Miller, hold that black case. Do not let them leave."

"Copy that."

"Stop them from moving the luggage. Just contain them, don't use force yet."

He put down the radio and picked up the landline on his desk.

"Hey, put me through to K-9. Do we have a drug-sniffing dog at the station today?"

My knees went weak, and I had to grab the edge of the desk.

I couldn't hear the voice on the other end of the line. A few seconds later, Officer Hayes hung up and turned to look at me.

His expression had completely changed.

The patronizing look of a cop dealing with "petty ex-drama" was entirely gone.

Outside, Logan's voice started rising.

"What the hell are you doing? We're leaving! That's my luggage!"

Then came Deputy Miller's calm voice.

"Sir, we just need you to cooperate for a moment."

"Cooperate with what? You already searched my bag!"

Logan's voice turned into a near-screaming pitch.

"Why are you searching it again? This is harassment! I'm going to sue you!"

Hailey's voice cut in.

But it wasn't her sweet, innocent tone.

It was sharp, cold, and commanding.

"Logan, stop talking. Call Mr. Vance."

Officer Hayes cracked the window open.

A white SUV pulled into the parking lot. Painted on the side in bold letters were: *K-9 UNIT.*

The door opened.

A massive German Shepherd hopped out.

Logan’s shouting instantly stopped.

The cicadas buzzed in the trees, the distant highway traffic honked, and the muggy summer air swirled around us. But in the parking lot, there was absolute silence.

The dog was led to the Audi. It circled the black hard-shell case twice.

Then, it sat down.

The handler looked up toward our window.

"Pop the lock."

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