“Agent Chen,” she whispered. “What if she’s not here to recover the evidence at all?”
Chen’s voice was low, controlled. “Explain.”
“What if this whole thing is a diversion?” Annie said. “What if the hostage situation isn’t the endgame? What if Sarah Mitchell doesn’t want the evidence back—what if she wants to destroy it? And everyone who’s seen it?”
Silence followed, heavy and immediate.
“That would explain the interference,” Chen said slowly. “Large-scale jamming equipment. Signal disruption. Thermal readings that don’t match human movement alone.”
“And it would explain why Jack said it felt wrong,” Annie pressed. “Why this operation is so big? So coordinated. She’s not planning to leave with anything. She’s planning to erase it.”
The truth of it settled like ice in Annie’s veins. If Sarah Mitchell had placed explosives throughout the building, then Jack hadn’t walked into a negotiation. He had walked into a tomb.
“She’s going to bring the whole place down,” Annie whispered. “The evidence. The hostages. Her own people. Everyone.”
Chen exhaled slowly. “If that’s true, then this is no longer a hostage incident. This is a mass-casualty event.”
The words sharpened Annie’s fear into something focused and fierce. She began crawling again, faster now, ignoring the sting in her knees and the burn in her shoulders as the tunnel sloped upward.
“There,” Henderson said urgently. “I see light.”
A faint gray glow appeared ahead, growing brighter with each movement. Annie surged forward, dragging herself the last few feet until the tunnel opened abruptly into a cramped utility room beneath the parking garage. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself upright, muscles shaking from the effort. The space smelled of cleaning chemicals and dust, and exposed pipes ran along the ceiling. A single fluorescent bulb buzzed overhead.
Agent Chen emerged moments later, already speaking into her radio, her voice clipped and commanding as she relayed what they had heard.
“Confirm thermal signatures again. I want precise readings. Are we looking at mechanical heat or chemical sources?”
Static answered, followed by a strained reply. “Ma’am, we’re confident it’s explosive material. Multiple devices. Placement suggests structural targeting.”
Annie closed her eyes briefly. Structural targeting meant collapse. It meant Sarah Mitchell wasn’t planning an escape. She was planning annihilation.
“Time estimate?” Chen asked.
“We don’t have one. Jamming is preventing remote diagnostics.”
Annie swallowed. No countdown. No visible clock. Just a building filled with people and the possibility that any second might be the last.
Chen turned sharply toward the door leading up into the garage. “We evacuate the surrounding blocks immediately. If she’s set enough charges to compromise the foundation—”
“No.” Annie’s voice cut through the space, stronger than she felt. “We can’t just pull back and wait.”
Chen met her gaze. “Ms. Whitaker, if that building detonates—”
“Jack is in there,” Annie said. “And so are bank employees, customers, and your agents. And if that evidence is destroyed, if Eleanor’s records vanish, then she dies all over again. Everything she endured means nothing.”
Chen’s expression tightened, torn between protocol and the reality in Annie’s eyes.
“Get the evidence out,” Annie continued, gripping the straps of the portfolio. “Get it to a secure federal facility.To prosecutors. To someone who can make sure the truth is preserved. But I’m not leaving Jack inside that building.”
“Annie, going back in—”
“I’m not going back through the front,” Annie said. Her mind was already racing ahead, searching old maps, remembered conversations, anything she’d ever absorbed about Fairview’s buildings and buried history. “But there may be another way.”
She pulled out her phone, hands steadier than she expected, and dialed.
“Fairview Fire Department, this is Carmen.”
“Carmen, this is Annie Whitaker. From the apartment fire.”
