I found Sergeant Vance’s photo and studied it. He’d runthe raid. Professional, competent, helpful since we’d arrived. Nothing about him raised flags.
He stayed in medium.
“Reeves and Martinez?” Donovan asked.
“Same. Anyone who was on that raid stays in medium until we can clear them.” I pinned both photos in the cluster with Vance. Martinez, the guy who always seemed to have his phone out. Reeves, the youngest on the team, still learning. Neither felt like a traitor, but feelings weren’t evidence.
Donovan’s gaze settled on another photo. Seth Briggson. The man’s permanent scowl came through even in his official portrait.
“I want to put him in high-risk,” Donovan said. “Badly.”
“Because he’s an asshole?”
“Because being an asshole that consistently takes effort. Makes me wonder what he’s compensating for.”
“Or he’s just an asshole.” I pinned Briggson’s photo back in medium, though it pained me. “We can’t flag everyone we don’t like.”
“We could.” Donovan’s mouth twitched. “Wouldn’t it be perfect if it turned out to be him? Catch the traitor and take down the department’s biggest jerk in one move.”
“Dream scenario.”
“A man can hope.”
My phone buzzed on the counter. Jace Monroe, Citadel’s tech guru calling from the Denver office. I put it on speaker and set it between us.
“Hey, Jace. You’re on with me and Donovan.”
“Excellent. My two favorite dog handlers, together at last.” Jace’s voice carried the easy amusement of a man who got to watch field operations from the safety of a climate-controlled office. “How’s life in Ski Town, USA? Befriended any Saint Bernards with tiny barrels of whiskey around their necks?”
“We’re working,” I said.
“Working. Right. Meanwhile, I’m running data analysis on seventy-five cops while you two play fetch and drink craft beer. The injustice is staggering.”
Donovan snorted. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field.”
“I wouldn’t last an hour, and I’m deeply at peace with that. God invented remote work for a reason.” Keys clattered in the background. “Okay, business. I ran those phone records you asked about after the raid. Every device associated with every officer on the entry team—calls, texts, data usage. The hour before, the hour after.”
“And?”
“Nothing. Clean across the board. No burner numbers, no encrypted apps, no contact with anyone outside normal patterns.” More typing. “I know it wouldn’t have been admissible anyway, but I was hoping someone would be careless enough to leave us a trail. Point us in the right direction, at least.”
I’d expected as much, but hearing it confirmed still landed heavy. Whoever leaked the raid intel knew what they were doing.
“What about financials?” Donovan asked.
“Still running. Bank records take longer, even with my don’t-ask-how-I-got-this-definitely-not-admissible-in-court methods. I’m looking for the usual red flags—mysterious deposits, lifestyle changes, sudden debt payoffs. Stuff that screamsI’m taking bribes, but I’m too dumb to launder properly.” A pause. “Should have something in a day or two. Sooner if one of them is exceptionally stupid.”
“Let’s hope for stupid,” I said.
“Always do.” Jace’s tone shifted, the humor draining away. “Seriously, though—watch yourselves out there. Whoever this is has solid tradecraft. They know how to cover their tracks. You’re not dealing with some rookie whogot greedy. This is someone with training, experience, or both.”
“Noted.”
“Good. Now go scratch behind Jolly’s ears for me. Tell him Uncle Jace says hi and that I’m deeply jealous of his life choices.”
The line went dead.
Donovan finished his beer and set the empty on the counter. “Uncle Jace.” He rolled his eyes.
