Chapter 51

Tires screeched against the hot Florida pavement as I swerved around a slow-moving sedan, the Atlantic air whipping through my cracked open window. Cape Canaveral blurred past, a mosaic of sun-drenched storefronts and palm trees swaying with indifference to the urgency clenching at my chest. My fingers fumbled for my phone, the screen"s glow a beacon of hope in the dimming light.

"Come on; come on," I muttered, tapping Detective Ryan"s contact as if speed dialing could hasten his answer.

The line clicked, then buzzed—a voice called out. "Ryan."

"Detective, it"s Agent Thomas." My voice was breathless, mirroring the pace of my heart. "Listen, I?—"

"What do you want, Thomas?" His words cut through the static, sharp with annoyance.

"Something"s come up," I pressed, steering with one hand, the other gripping the phone like a lifeline. "We need to talk about the Chapman case."

"Absolutely not. I'm done talking to you."

"Ryan, I spoke to Victoria, Sarah"s kid," I blurted out, the words tumbling over themselves. "She heard someone in the house that night."

There was a pause, long enough for me to hear the distant sound of seagulls mingling with my pounding pulse.

"And?" Ryan"s voice was a mix of impatience and disinterest.

"Adam," I said, my grip tightening on the wheel. "Victoria heard Adam"s voice before her mom got there."

"Thomas, you"re grasping at straws." The detective"s retort was swift, dismissive. "You can"t just?—"

"Grasping? She identified him by voice, Ryan!" My insistence bordered on desperation, the revelation too significant to ignore. "And there's something else"

"Look, Thomas," he sighed, the sound crackling over the line. "Adam"s been through hell, lost his wife, and now you want to pin this on him?"

"You're not listening to me; there's more…" I shot back, feeling the sting of injustice as another piece slotted into the ugly puzzle of deceit and betrayal.

"Harassment is what it is," he countered coldly. "Back off, Agent Thomas."

But backing off wasn"t in my nature—not when the truth was so close, or the stakes were this high.

"Ryan, listen to me," I started, the urgency clear in my voice. "Victoria"s testimony could?—"

"Thomas," he cut in, his tone sharper than broken glass. "Sarah Chapman"s been released. Your mission is over. You won."

The words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, the world outside blurred into streaks of color as my foot eased off the accelerator. "Released? On what grounds?"

"The chief thinks she"s not our perp," Ryan said, and I could almost hear him shrugging through the phone. "Orders are orders."

"But that"s the worst thing you could do!" I sputtered, my mind racing faster than my car. "You just put Sarah's life in great danger, Ryan."

"Look, I don"t make the rules," he interrupted, his annoyance palpable. "Chapman"s free to go until further notice."

"Damn it, Ryan!" I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. "If anything happens to her…."

"I can't win with you, can I? I thought you'd be happy. This was what you wanted," he said curtly. "But from now on, keep your nose clean, Thomas. No more wild theories."

"Wild theories?" I felt frustration knotting in my chest, tight and suffocating. "Are you just going to ignore this new information?"

"Enough, Thomas." There was finality in his voice, a closed door I couldn"t open.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor of fear for Sarah"s safety that threatened to overflow. My resolve hardened; I wouldn"t let this go, no matter what Ryan said. Not when someone"s life hung in the balance.

"Listen to me," I insisted, my words slicing through the tension. "Victoria heard him. Adam was there that night. Plus, I have something else I need to show you. We can"t?—"

"Stop." He cut me off with a force that nearly made me swerve. "I"ve had it with your rogue heroics. You"re doing more harm than good, Thomas."

A hot coil of anger unfurled in my chest, but I clenched my jaw, forcing calm into my voice. "Then tell me, Detective, what would you have me do? Sit back and watch while the real culprit walks free?"

"Damn it, Agent Thomas!" The venom in his voice stung. "You think you"re above the law?"

"I think I"m the only one trying to uphold it right now," I shot back, the car accelerating beneath me as though fueled by my own determination.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, suspicion lacing his words.

"Adam"s," I said flatly. "He"s got some explaining to do."

"Thomas, don"t you dare?—"

"Oh, but I will."

"Then, you're on your own."

"Goodbye, Ryan." I ended the call. My pulse thrummed in my ears, every beat fueling my resolve.

Adam would answer my questions—one way or another.

I threw the phone onto the dashboard; it skittered across the surface, coming to rest against the windshield—a small, insignificant rectangle of technology that had just delivered a heavy blow. My grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning white as I navigated the streets of Cape Canaveral, the Atlantic breeze doing nothing to cool my simmering fury.

Street signs blurred past, each one bringing me closer to Adam"s doorstep. Houses in this part of town boasted well-manicured lawns and picket fences, starkly contrasting the chaos that churned within me.

Adam"s place loomed ahead, its facade eerily serene beneath the Florida sun. I eased off the gas, the car slowing until it finally came to a halt in front of his driveway. The engine"s hum fell silent as I turned the key; the sudden quiet pressing in on me felt like an accusation.

My hand lingered on the ignition, breaths shallow. Alone. Ryan"s word echoed in my mind, but it didn"t scare me. It emboldened me. This was the job—pursuing truth no matter how deep it buried itself.

I glanced at the house once more, noting the curtains drawn tight over windows that might as well have been eyes shut against prying gazes. Adam had answers, and I wouldn"t leave without them.

I stepped out of the car, my service weapon a reassuring weight against my hip. The coastal air was heavy with salt and the promise of rain, but the storm inside me raged fiercer still.

The gravel crunched beneath my sneakers as I advanced. Each step was deliberate, practiced—the gait of an agent who had walked down this path of confrontation more times than she cared to count. Yet, a singular unease knotted my stomach, coiling tighter with every breath.

"Answers," I muttered, a mantra to focus my resolve. This wasn"t just about Sarah"s freedom any longer; it was about justice, about the lurking shadows of doubt that refused to dissipate. I texted Matt to let him know where I was going. He texted me back to be careful and to call for backup if needed, even though it wasn't our jurisdiction. Call first, then explain later. Then he added that he was happy I shared where I was with him.

My fist raised to the door, and before I could second-guess the force of my resolve, I knocked. Three sharp raps—enough to command attention, sufficient to signal I meant business.