Page 12

CHAPTER 12

Ethan pushed open the door to the comms center, the scent of coffee and French fries meeting him as he strolled in. “Hey, Rusty. How are you doing?”

Rusty glanced up from his desk as he popped a fry into his mouth and chewed. “Good. How about you? Anything new with the Liam situation?”

Ethan dropped into the chair beside him, the frame creaking under his weight. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Oh, yeah?” asked Cooper from the corner, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Ethan turned, startled. “Didn’t realize you were here too.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Just dropped by to work on a few things with Whiskey.”

“Cool,” Ethan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a USB drive. He held it up, the plastic catching the fluorescent light. “This is something the cops missed.”

Coop raised an eyebrow, his expression sharpening with interest. “Nova’s going to be thrilled to hear that. She’s not local PD, but she hates it when they screw up. Reflects badly on everyone.

Ethan shook his head. “It’s not the cops’ fault. Someone didn’t tell them the truth—or didn’t know it.”

Rusty sat up, pulling his chair closer to Ethan. “Fill us in.”

Ethan booted up the laptop in front of him, the faint hum of its fan filling the silence. “I went to the corner where those guys tried to grab Liam,” he began, his tone measured. “I’ve got to say, it’s not the kind of location you’d pick for a snatch-and-grab. Too many witnesses. Too many variables.”

Rusty leaned forward. “Like what?”

“For starters,” Ethan said, pulling up a map of the area, “you can’t predict which direction someone’s going to head when they leave a place like Dave’s Café. If they were targeting Brooklyn, they’d have had to follow her there. But that corner? It’s crowded. People everywhere. Traffic lights changing constantly. The whole setup was sloppy—amateur. The Yakuza doesn’t do amateur.”

Rusty frowned, his brows knitting together. “No, they don’t. When they pull something, it’s clean. Precise.”

“Unless,” Cooper added thoughtfully, “they didn’t have time to plan. What if it was a heat-of-the-moment thing? Someone gave them a location, and they acted fast.”

Ethan nodded, his mouth tightening. “That’s what I’m thinking. It wasn’t planned. Whatever set this off happened quickly, probably that day. But if they weren’t following Brooklyn, how the hell did they know where she and Liam would be? And how did they know where she parked? She could have just as easily parked somewhere else.”

Rusty let out a low whistle. “You think they had a lookout in the cafe?” He shook his head. “Yeah, this is sounding sketchier by the second.”

“I think it’s a distinct possibility that someone in Dave’s tipped off the Yakuza when Brooklyn arrived. I’m guessing whoever that was also told them the direction she came from. They might have even circled the block to locate her car but that also might have been too risky. Either way, they were definitely tipped off.”

Ethan plugged the USB drive into the laptop that was in front of him. “While I was there, I talked to everyone in the shops around that corner. One of them, a dry cleaner, had a nanny cam hidden in a potted plant. When the cops came through, the kid working the counter didn’t know it existed, so he couldn’t tell them about it.”

Rusty leaned closer. “But you spotted it?”

“Yep. The owner installed it to keep an eye on her nephew, who’s been skimming cash from the register. She didn’t even realize the camera caught something important until I pointed it out. She gave me the footage.”

Ethan navigated to the video and then teed it up to a few minutes before when Brooklyn said the whole thing went down. “Let’s take a look,” he said, clicking play.

The grainy footage showed Liam walking along to the corner. Moments later, a van screeched to a halt in front of him. Two men jumped out, moving fast. Then Brooklyn appeared, her figure tense as she lunged at one of the men, striking his neck. The struggle played out in the frame—Brooklyn clinging to Liam as the other man tried to drag him toward the van.

Ethan paused the video. “Shit,” he said, zooming in on the men. “Those are definitely Yakuza tats. I spent some time looking them up online so I could identify them on sight. They both have sleeves and this guy”—he pointed to the one holding Liam—“has some on his neck.”

Rusty grunted. “Confirmation on the Yakuza connection. But that still doesn’t explain what they wanted with Liam.”

Ethan hit play. The guy pulling on Liam’s arm looked up suddenly. Ethan paused again. “It’s just like Brooklyn said. Some guy yelled from down the block, and it spooked them.”

Hitting play again, Ethan leaned forward in his chair to study the screen. The guy let go of Liam, shoved his buddy into the van, and they sped out of the frame. Ethan paused the video.

“Not very professional,” Cooper commented, his voice laced with sarcasm.

“Not even close,” Rusty muttered.

Ethan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “This wasn’t well thought out. It wasn’t planned. They realized where Liam was and acted fast. These tattooed guys are for sure Yakuza.”

Rusty ate another fry. “I think I have to agree with you. Looking at the video, if they didn’t tail Brooklyn, then someone had to have tipped them off.”

Copper whistled low. “That’s not good.”

“No, it’s not,” Ethan said grimly. “Either someone in that café is connected, or there was a lookout. But it begs the question once again: Why were they looking for Liam in the first place? Having a lookout would imply they knew he would be there. Why would the Yakuza know where a group of kids play video games after school?”

“Do you think it could have been the kids Liam was with?” Rusty asked then ate his last fry.

Ethan tapped the desktop, his fingers drumming an anxious rhythm. “No, it’s not the kids. They didn’t say anything at least not on purpose.” He leaned back, his jaw tightening. “I’ve talked to them. They’re not the type to have contacts with the Yakuza—they’re just not. So if those two boys tipped off the Yakuza, they did it unintentionally. I think someone else had to tell them where Liam would be.”

Rusty tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “Don’t they normally play at Dave’s Café? Didn’t you tell me that’s their usual spot?”

“They do,” Ethan agreed, “but not on Tuesdays. That’s what makes this so strange. This was a one-off, not something they normally do. It would’ve been out of the ordinary—something no one could predict unless they had inside information.”

Cooper leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Do you think it was someone who works at the café?”

Ethan’s shrug was tight with frustration. “It’s a possibility. I can’t say for sure. It could be someone who works there. Maybe the Yakuza spread the word, and someone recognized them. Or maybe someone overheard a conversation. Right now, it’s all guesswork.”

“Or…” Rusty added, “Someone at the café is connected and tipped them off.”

Ethan nodded grimly. “That’s possible too.”

“Run the video again,” Cooper suggested.

Ethan hit play, and they all watched the footage one more time. The van, the struggle, the sudden retreat—it played out like a chaotic blur on the grainy screen. At the end, Ethan zoomed in on the driver of the van. The man’s face was partially obscured, but the image was clear enough to make out key details.

“I think this is the closest we’re going to get to a clear shot,” Ethan said.

Rusty leaned in, studying the screen. “Agreed. He’s your best bet. We’ll run this through facial recognition.”

“Can you handle that?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Rusty replied. “Where are you going?”

“I’m heading back to the café,” Ethan said, standing and grabbing his jacket. “I need to talk to some people and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

Rusty frowned. “Be careful. If these guys are connected to the Yakuza, you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair, his expression serious. “He’s right. If someone there is an informant, you don’t want to piss them off by asking too many questions.”

Ethan smirked. “Probably not, but I’m going to anyway.” He turned to Cooper. “Can you do me a favor? Swing by my place and pick up Mojo. He’s been spending the nights over at Brooklyn’s, and he was so happy to see his own bed this morning that he passed out cold. He just needs a little exercise. I know you’re taking Whiskey out today anyway.”

Cooper nodded. “Not a problem. I’ll grab him. He and Whiskey can burn off some energy together.”

“Thanks,” Ethan said as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and answered quickly. “Brooklyn?”

Her voice trembled on the other end of the line. “Ethan, they have Liam.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean they have Liam? He was at school.”

“He was,” Brooklyn said, her voice breaking. “But the school just called me. He was there at recess, but when it was over, he was gone.”

Ethan swore under his breath. “Are they sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered, the agony in her voice wrapping around every word. “I need you to meet me at the school.”

“Where are you?” Ethan demanded, his tone sharper than he intended.

“I’m leaving work,” she replied, her voice cracking.

“Stay there. I’ll come get you.”

“No, I need to be at the school?—”

“Brooklyn,” Ethan interrupted, his voice firm but steady. “You’re in no condition to drive right now. Stay put. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She hesitated, then whispered, “Okay.” The line went dead.

Ethan shoved the phone into his pocket and turned back to Cooper and Rusty. “They’ve got Liam,” he said tightly. “They took him from school.”

“What?” Cooper shot to his feet. “Are you serious?”

Ethan nodded tersely.

Cooper grabbed his phone. “I’m calling Nova I’ll have her meet us there. I’ll swing by and get Mojo on the way.”

Rusty nodded, his expression hardening. “What can I do?”

In a grim tone, Ethan said, “Run that facial recognition. Look at the tattoos. Anything you can find. The faster we ID these guys, the faster we can get Liam back.”

Rusty was already typing. “I’ll call Bellamy too, get him in the loop, and start working on a plan.”

“Good,” Ethan said as he headed for the door. “Let’s move.”

Ten seconds later, the truck’s engine roared to life and Ethan tore out of the driveway. His chest ached, the weight of guilt pressing harder with every mile. He’d promised Brooklyn he’d protect Liam, and now he’d failed her.