Sean sat in his car parked down the block from Kendra's house, engine off, fingers drumming against the steering wheel. When the front door swung open, his breath caught.
Kendra stepped out, keys clenched tight in her hand, her posture tense and deliberate. Even in the dim streetlight, Sean could read the language of her body—the slight forward lean of someone fighting against time, the rigid set of her shoulders that spoke of contained urgency. There was no hesitation, no second glance over her shoulder—just smooth, practiced movement that made his stomach clench with recognition.
This wasn't the Kendra who grabbed coffee with him between cases. This was someone else entirely—someone with secrets.
"Where are you going this late?" he muttered under his breath. The distant streetlight caught her profile for just a moment—her jaw was set, eyes focused forward with the kind of determination that came from knowing exactly where you were going and why. This wasn't a casual late-night errand. This was purpose, wrapped in shadows.
The engine revved, her taillights glowing crimson before disappearing around the corner into the night, taking with them any illusion Sean had left about their partnership.
His hand moved to the ignition without conscious thought. He pulled away from the curb with practiced ease, headlights dimmed, maintaining the wide distance his training demanded while his heart hammered against his ribs.
She wasn't heading toward the correction center. Or the bureau.
Her route was too deliberate—precise turns that spoke of careful planning, exact speeds that meant she'd driven this path before. Each turn felt like another nail in the coffin of their trust, another secret revealed through careful observation.
The further she drove, the thinner the scenery became—old warehouses with broken windows, forgotten factories with faded signs, and empty industrial lanes that bordered the outskirts of town where honest people had no business being after dark.
"Why here, Kendra?" Sean whispered. "What are you hiding from me?"
His training kicked in—three cars back when possible, alternate routes to maintain visual contact without being spotted.
Kendra's car slowed ahead, brake lights flaring. Sean eased onto a side service road, cutting his engine and coasting into a shadowed spot behind an abandoned freight container. From there, he watched.
She pulled up to a gated self-storage facility, its harsh metal fencing bathed in the pale blue of flickering streetlights.
A sinking feeling twisted his gut.
Kendra exited her car with fluid precision, scanning her surroundings once—a practiced sweep that made Sean's blood run cold with recognition. He'd seen that move a hundred times in the field, but never turned against him. She paused for a heartbeat, and Sean instinctively sank lower in his seat. Then she headed toward the far end of the facility, steps purposeful and quick.
Her flashlight flickered to life, casting narrow beams onto rusted unit numbers until she stopped at one halfway down the row.
Unit 47A.
She unlocked it without hesitation—like she'd been there countless times before.
Sean's jaw tightened. "Since when did you have a storage unit?" he whispered to the empty car. "And why the hell didn't you tell me about it?"
His phone buzzed, screen illuminating the dark interior.
Michael:
Let's meet tomorrow. Please don't be late.
Sean glanced at the message, lips pressed into a thin line before turning the screen off. "Perfect timing as always, Michael," he muttered dryly.
Eyes back on Kendra. Always back to Kendra.
From where he sat, he could make out faint slivers of light spilling from the now-open unit. He strained his ears, catching only fragments of metal scraping against concrete and hushed footsteps.
Minutes ticked by on the car's digital clock. Ten. Fifteen. Each second stretched like an eternity.
Too many. Far too many for any innocent explanation.
Sean's fingers drummed against the steering wheel again, this time with growing impatience. She wasn't just chasing evidence anymore—that much was clear from the careful choreography of her movements. Kendra was following a lead she'd been nurturing in secret.
And she hadn't shared that. Not with him.
"You're keeping secrets now?" Sean muttered to himself, leaning forward to get a better look. "What the hell are you into, Kendra? What the hell are you keeping from me?"
Kendra's flashlight moved deeper into the storage unit. Whatever she was looking for—whatever she knew—it wasn't something she wanted anyone to find out.
Then Sean remembered what Mr. Stephen had said before he died:
I've sent a message to someone. Soon you'll find out.
Sean's breath caught in his throat, a cold realization washing over him.
"Shit," he muttered, fingers gripping the dashboard. "Was Kendra the one the old man sent a message to?"
The possibility hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. The timing fit too perfectly to be coincidence.
If Kendra was deliberately keeping away from him, how much did she know? How deep was she in this already?
He had to see for himself what Kendra was up to. No more speculation. No more guesswork.
Sean checked his holster by instinct, then stepped out of the car and quietly shut the door. The night air hit his face, damp and heavy with the smell of rust and rain-soaked concrete.
He crouched low as he made his way toward the facility's edge, keeping his silhouette broken against the uneven landscape. Each step felt like walking deeper into quicksand, but he couldn't stop now.
The wind picked up, whistling through gaps in the fencing, covering his approach. His shoes crunched against loose gravel, but he paused with each step, timing his movements with the flicker of her flashlight.
When he reached the perimeter, he kept to the shadows, ducking behind a row of empty carts and rusted bins. He could see the door to Unit 47A was cracked open just enough to let the faintest sliver of light bleed into the night.
He crept closer, breath steady despite the hurricane of emotions raging inside him, ears sharp, every sense heightened.
Inside, he heard the soft thud of boxes being moved. A metallic zip that echoed slightly in the confined space. Then Kendra's voice—muffled but audible in the stillness.
"This is it," she murmured, words clearly meant for herself. "Was this enough to take a life?"
The words hit him like a physical blow. Sean froze, the realization that Kendra must have known why the old man had to die crystallized into something solid and heavy in his chest.