Ordinary people doing extraordinary things in the aftermath of violence.
Except there was nothing ordinary about any of this. Or these people, he was coming to realize.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, saw Morrison's name, and his stomach dropped.
"I need to take this." He stepped outside before anyone could respond.
The call connected before he finished pulling the door closed.
"Where are you, Sawyer?" His supervisor’s tone could have striped paint. "And don't tell me you're still in Oregon."
"I'm following leads on my brother’s disappearance."
"You're AWOL from an active Internal Affairs investigation that you were specifically ordered to close. The Deputy Director is asking questions. I've been covering for you, but that ends now."
Gabe leaned against the bakery's exterior wall. Cold seeped through his jacket. "I need more time."
Morrison's tone shifted from fury to something harder. "Forty-eight hours. That's what you get. Wrap up whatever personal drama you're chasing and get back here, or I'm filing termination papers. Your badge, your career, your pension. All of it gone."
"My brother is missing."
"And I'm sorry about that. Genuinely. But you don't get to abandon your responsibilities because of family issues. Two days, Sawyer."
The line went dead.
Gabe stared at his phone. Forty-eight hours to find David, expose a smuggling operation, and somehow keep his career intact.
Impossible math.
He turned and saw Cara watching him through the window. When he stepped back inside, she didn't ask. Just handed him a bottle of water and returned to sweeping without a word.
The kindness of it hit him sideways.
He grabbed David's flash drive from his jacket pocket. Blue plastic. Lighter than it should be given what it contained. His brother's last insurance policy. Evidence worth killing for.
All locked behind a password he couldn't guess.
Tom glanced over from his shelf repair. "Problem?"
"Password protected. I've tried everything I can think of." Gabe turned the drive over in his palm. "David's note said itwas something only I would know. A question he asked when we were kids, and I gave the worst answer possible."
"Sounds like a sibling thing." Tom set down his drill. "What kind of stuff did you argue about?"
What didn’t they argue about? Baseball teams. Video games. Whether their dad was a hero or a fool for investigating corruption.
He pulled out his laptop and set it on the least destroyed section of counter then plugged in the drive.
A password prompt appeared.
He thought for a minute, then typed.
PHILLIES
Incorrect password
MARIO
Incorrect password
