“Go back to four-fifteen.”
“She texted me at four-twenty-eight. I checked it again while you were outside.”
“Then give it a little cushion in case she was already outside when she texted,” Brian said. “Four-twenty-five.”
Andy dragged the timeline back, the footage ticking down minute by minute. He pressed “Play” at the correct time, and they both watched with bated breath.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Tess entered the frame on foot, walking toward her car, with her purse tucked under her arm. She looked tired, distracted—done with her day.
Brian leaned closer, his chest tightening.This is it.
When she was halfway across the lot, digging into her purse, probably for her keys, a white van tore into view from the far entrance—too fast for the narrow aisle. Tess jerked sideways as it cut sharply across the frame and braked beside her, its bulk blocking the camera’s view of her.
All Brian could do was watch helplessly as seconds ticked by. His pulse slammed in his ears.
Suddenly, the van lurched forward again and accelerated out of frame. Tess was gone, leaving only the space where she’d stood and her car waiting in the background.
Andy’s breath caught. “She just... disappeared.”
“Back it up to right before it speeds off.” Brian calmly slipped back into investigator mode. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions get the best of him. Tess needed him to be clear-headed. “Play it again in slow-mo.”
Andy rewound the footage, then let it go forward, frame by frame. Brian tracked the van’s departure again. “Stop it right there! Can you zoom in on the plate?”
“No problem.”
The image sharpened just enough to make out the license plate beneath the rear bumper. Brian memorized it, every number locking into place, then stepped away—putting distance between himself and the screen before the moment Tess vanished burned itself too deep.
He found the contact he needed on his phone, thumb hovering for a fraction of a second before he hit Call.
Focus. Precision over panic. Detachment over everything else. It was difficult, but Tess’s life was on theline.
After two rings, the call connected.
“SBI dispatch. How can I help you?” The voice was familiar.
“Susan? This is Special Agent Brian Malone,” he said, moving toward the window, his eyes scanning the darkening yard out of habit more than need. He rattled off his badge number to verify his identity. “I need you to run a North Carolina plate. It just came up in an investigation.”
“Sure. What’s the number?”
“Echo. Romeo. November. Five, nine, seven, two.”
A pause, and then the faint sound of keys clicking on the other end.
Behind him, Andy sat frozen at the table, hands clenched tightly in his lap as he stared at the laptop like it might change if he looked hard enough.
“Plate comes back to a stolen white Ford Transit,” the dispatcher said. “Camden PD reported it two days ago.”
Brian closed his eyes briefly. Of course it was stolen. “Any recent hits?”
“Negative.” Another pause. “Do you have eyes on the vehicle now, Agent Malone?”
He wished like hell he did. “No.”
“Do you want a BOLO put out?”
For a split second, he pictured the ripple effect—alerts going out, radios lighting up, and the news traveling faster than it should. He couldn’t risk it.
“No. Not yet. Just let me know immediately if you get any hits on it. Thanks.”
