Chapter 6 - The Package Miles Never OpenedMiles searched his apartment first.
Nothing.
Then his office.
Old drawers.
Archived mail.
Evidence receipts.
Personal boxes.
Nothing from Nathan.
Nolan arrived furious.
“You think Nathan sent you something?”
“Dane did.”
“That doesn’t mean he did.”
“No.”
“But somebody thought I had it.”
Nolan paced Miles’s living room.
“What was on the card?”
“Probably evidence from Canyon Crest.”
“Could Nathan have given it to me?”
Miles looked at him.
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then think about the days before he vanished.”
Nolan sat.
“He came to the hangar.”
“When?”
“Two days before.”
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. Coffee.”
“Did he give you anything?”
“No.”
“Ask anything weird?”
Nolan frowned.
“He asked if you still used the P.O. box.”
Miles became still.
“What P.O. box?”
“The one Mom had.”
Their mother died seven years earlier.
She maintained a postal box for family business and charity correspondence.
Miles inherited it.
He rarely checked it.
Eventually he stopped paying.
“When did it close?”
Miles searched.
Sixteen months ago.
Nathan disappeared eighteen months ago.
His pulse increased.
They contacted the postal facility.
Old unclaimed contents had been forwarded when the box closed.
“To where?”
Miles asked.
The clerk searched.
“Address on file.”
His previous apartment.
Miles had moved around the same time.
Forwarding service should have redirected it.
Maybe.
He checked storage.
Miles kept unopened boxes from the move in Nolan’s garage.
“Seriously?” Nolan said.
“You still haven’t unpacked after a year and a half?”
“I work.”
“That is not a personality.”
They drove to Nolan’s house.
Three cardboard boxes marked MAIL / OFFICE.
Receipts.
Insurance notices.
Old magazines.
Then a padded envelope.
No return address.
Postmarked the morning Nathan disappeared.
Addressed:
MILES ARCHER — PRIVATE
Miles’s hands went cold.
He opened it carefully.
Inside:
A handwritten note.
Miles,
If I’m wrong, I’m going to look paranoid. If I’m right, don’t take this through regular impound channels. Someone is watching Canyon Crest cases.
Miles looked at Nolan.
Erin had said almost the same thing.
The envelope contained no SD card.
Only a small brass locker key.
Tag:
B-42.
And a receipt from a self-storage business in Meridian.
Lena obtained access through a warrant.
Locker B-42 contained one plastic toolbox.
Inside:
An SD card sealed in a zip bag.
Nathan’s notebook.
Three vehicle titles.
Photographs of motorcycles.
Miles felt grief and anger at once.
Nathan had done everything right.
Created redundancy.
Tried to reach a detective.
Sent evidence.
The package sat unopened because Miles had been moving and ignored personal mail.
“I should have checked.”
Lena looked at him.
“Stop.”
“He disappeared after sending this.”
“You did not know.”
“I could have.”
“No.”
She pointed at the evidence.
“Responsibility belongs to the people who hurt him.”
Miles knew that intellectually.
Emotionally, guilt remained.
The SD card contained weeks of footage.
Nathan had followed Canyon Crest trucks from public roads.
Recorded motorcycles entering the yard.
Then, days later, similar bikes leaving with changed plates.
He photographed VIN discrepancies.
Titles.
Drivers.
Nothing enough alone.
Then one clip.
Nathan sat at a gas station wearing his helmet camera.
Across the road, Dane met a uniformed Boise officer.
The footage zoomed slightly.
Miles froze.
Not Calvin.
A sworn officer.
Sergeant Brent Halley.
Twenty-two years with the department.
Patrol supervisor.
Respected.
Had trained Miles during his rookie year.
Dane handed Halley an envelope.
Halley placed it inside his jacket.
Another clip.
Halley accessed a Canyon Crest truck.
Removed a phone from evidence property inside.
Then Dane spoke.
Audio faint but clear:
“Anybody asks about the rider reports, they disappear.”
Halley answered:
“I can delay paperwork. I can’t erase bodies.”
Dane:
“There aren’t bodies.”
Halley:
“Caldwell is getting curious.”
Nathan had recorded it two days before he disappeared.
Miles stared.
A police sergeant had been meeting Dane.
Accepting envelopes.
Manipulating reports.
Maybe warning him about Nathan.
Lena immediately notified Internal Affairs.
Harper Sloan watched the footage once.
Her face went cold.
“I’ll handle Halley.”
Miles stood.
“He trained me.”
Harper looked at him.
“I know.”
“Could he have seen Nathan’s request for me?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
Access logs.
They checked.
Brent Halley opened the dispatch record forty minutes after Nathan called.
Then accessed Miles’s schedule.
He knew Miles was out of state.
He could have told Dane Nathan was trying to contact Miles.
Miles felt betrayed.
Again.
Harper said:
“We arrest quietly.”
Before they could move, Halley’s department phone went offline.
His cruiser was found abandoned near the airport.
Personal vehicle gone.
He had been warned.
Someone inside Internal Affairs briefing circle?
Harper.
Lena.
Miles.
Deputy chief.
Impossible to know.
Then Miles’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Silence.
Then Brent Halley.
“Miles.”
Miles’s jaw tightened.
“Where are you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You ran.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Dane is cleaning house.”
Miles felt cold.
“Where’s Calvin?”
Halley was silent.
“Brent.”
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Calvin never made it out of Boise.”
Miles stopped breathing.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who has him?”
“Dane.”
“But Dane is in custody.”
Halley laughed bitterly.
“You still think Dane runs this?”
Miles stared.
“Who does?”
Halley answered:
“The person who signed Canyon Crest’s city contract twelve years ago.”
Then the call ended.
Miles looked at Harper.
Only one person currently still in the department had approved the original contract.
May you like
Deputy Chief Malcolm Voss.
The same man they had just briefed on every development.
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