On thermal, most apartments read cold and vacant. The handful that weren’t displayed a single adult-sized heat signature—nothing clustered, nothing unusual. If this was the building—and Brian was certain it was—then she wasn’t on any of the occupied floors. “Drop it down to the basement windows if you can without being caught.”
Milford tweaked the controls, and the drone shifted smoothly into position. Grimy windows sat just above ground level, heavy security bars bolted across the outside. The three on the east and north sides were negative for heat signatures, but they hit pay dirt on the west side. Six people were in that part of the basement—two paced, three looked like they were sitting on chairs or boxes, and one sat on the floor. Ten to one odds that was Tess. A slight shift—left, then right—told him she was still responsive. She had to be terrified.
I’m coming, baby. Hold on a little bit longer.
“Zoom in on the entrances so we can see what we’re dealing with,” Captain Bowden instructed.
The drone zipped around the building, stopping briefly at each door so they could evaluate the best way to get in quietly. After all were inspected, Milford sent the drone back up and away from the building so they had real-time intel on anyone coming or going. Captain Bowden grabbed a large tablet and headed outside, calling his team to gather around. Brian, Rafe, and Sean joined them.
“The clock’s ticking on this one, boys, so we need to go in hard and fast,” Bowden said, his voice clipped but steady. He’d already accessed the county building department’s database and pulled up the floor plans on the tablet, setting it on the hood of someone’s car so everyone could see the screen. He started with the basement, pointing to where they’d seen the heat signatures. “Best guess is five hostiles and one victim, but that’s unconfirmed, so watch your targets. Three entrances, but the rear service one only opens from the inside. So, we’ve got the main front, and another on the east side leading to the parking lot. No sign of fob readers, and it’s unknown if we need a key to gain access. We’ll get that intel on site. Didn’t spot any lookouts, but again, that’s unconfirmed. Watch your sixes.”
“Two teams,” he continued. “Sean, Brooks, and Peterman, you’re with me at the side door—Bravo. Montoya and Brian, you’re with Hawkins, Delgado, and Whitaker at the front—Alpha. Hawk and I have point.” He eyed the two brothers and Rafe. “You got your vests and gear?”
“Yeah,” they responded in unison.
“Good. Hawk, give them some comms, and then let’s hit the road. Milford will monitor the situation from here.”
After getting their bulletproof vests and borrowed earwigs on, they loaded up into two unmarked vehicles and Brian’s truck and raced out of the lot.
He checked the timer counting down on his watch.
00:09:18
Nine minutes. Damn. We’re cutting it close.
As he followed Bowden’s SUV, the memories of the shootout at the warehouse a few weeks ago tried to resurface—the metallic echo of gunfire, the burn of air against his ear as that round passed too close to ignore. An inch or two from being gone. From never seeing his family and Tess again.
He forced the flashback down. Tess’s life depended on him being sharp.
He hadn’t frozen then, and he wouldn’t now.
As they parked in the target building’s lot, Milford’s voice came over their comms. “Still no sign of lookouts. Six heat signatures still in the same area of the basement.”
“Let’s move,” Bowden ordered as they exited the vehicles simultaneously.
They split cleanly. While the Bravo team headed for the side entrance, Alpha made a beeline toward the front. Late summer light still clung to the brick façade, the heat of the sun reflecting off it.
Rafe was prepared to pick the lock if necessary, but they lucked out. A gray-haired man exited the front door with a small white dog on a leash. His eyes widened when he saw the five men in full protective gear, badges on their hips, and weapons in hand. Stepping to the side, he held the door open for them, then hustled down the sidewalk, practically dragging the dog behind him.
The air shifted immediately as the door quietly closed behind them—damp, stale, heavy with mildew and something sour underneath. The stairwell lights buzzed faintly overhead. From below, male voices drifted up. Laughter. The scrape of a chair.
“Alpha in,” Hawkins whispered into his comm unit.
Bowden’s response was immediate. “Bravo in.” Either the side door was unlocked, or someone had let them in, too, because it would’ve taken longer for someone to pick it.
00:05:47
Brian felt the narrowing begin. The outside world faded. All that existed was their immediate surroundings.
Quickly and quietly, they located the stairwell at the near end of the first-floor corridor and descended in tight formation. The temperature dropped as they moved lower.
Hawk reached the bottom of the stairs first and raised a fist.
The rest halted instantly.
The basement wasn’t one open room. It was expansive. They’d known that from the floor plans.
Concrete stretched in multiple directions beyond the landing—wide open areas were broken up by rows of chain-link storage cages filled with residents’ belongings. Mattresses wrapped in plastic. Old dressers. Bicycles. Holiday decorations in cracked bins. Tires stacked in corners.
