Chapter 7 - The Robbery That Was Really a MurderSamuel Mercer’s death had been staged.
Caleb knew it now.
The notebook showed a motorcycle stolen three streets from Mercer’s home on the same night.
The motorcycle had been used to approach Mercer’s garage.
No license plate camera hit.
No identifiable car.
Rider wore a helmet.
Perfect anonymity.
Then the motorcycle disappeared through Franklin Cycle.
Caleb stared at Tyler through the interview glass.
Tyler had spent the last hour asking for a lawyer.
Now Caleb had leverage.
He entered with a public defender present.
Placed the notebook on the table.
Tyler went white.
“Where’d you get that?”
“Locker.”
Tyler closed his eyes.
“You wrote it.”
His lawyer said, “Do not answer.”
Caleb opened to Mercer’s entry.
“S.M.”
Tyler looked.
“No.”
“Samuel Mercer.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Garage pickup.”
Silence.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Tyler’s lawyer touched his arm.
“Don’t.”
Caleb pointed to initials.
“W.P.”
Tyler stared at the table.
Caleb leaned back.
“You thought you were stealing motorcycles.”
No answer.
“But somebody used one in a homicide.”
Tyler’s face changed.
“I didn’t kill anybody.”
“Then help yourself.”
His attorney whispered to him.
Tyler shook his head.
“No.”
Caleb continued.
“Brooke is cooperating.”
Tyler looked up sharply.
“She what?”
“She told us about Franklin Cycle.”
“Bitch.”
“Careful.”
“She’s dead.”
Caleb stared.
“What did you say?”
Tyler realized.
Too late.
Caleb’s voice dropped.
“Why is Brooke dead?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Who kills her?”
“No one.”
“Preacher?”
Tyler’s breathing accelerated.
His attorney leaned in.
Caleb waited.
Eventually Tyler whispered:
“You don’t understand him.”
“Then explain.”
“He knows everything.”
“Who?”
“Preacher.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.”
“I swear.”
“Have you met him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Different places.”
“Face?”
“Always covered.”
“Voice?”
“Changed.”
“Then how do you know it’s the same person?”
Tyler swallowed.
“Ring.”
Caleb frowned.
“What ring?”
“Big silver ring. Eagle on it.”
Caleb’s mind flashed.
Police academy graduation.
Command staff.
Ceremonial association rings.
Pike wore a large silver ring with an eagle.
Caleb had seen it dozens of times.
“What hand?”
“Right.”
Pike wore his on the right.
Caleb kept his expression neutral.
“What did Preacher ask you to do with Mercer?”
“I never met Mercer.”
“Motorcycle.”
Tyler exhaled.
“He needed a bike.”
“For what?”
“No questions.”
“What happened afterward?”
“A guy returned it.”
“Who?”
“Helmet.”
“Bike damaged?”
“No.”
“Anything in storage?”
Tyler hesitated.
“Folder.”
Caleb leaned closer.
“What folder?”
“I didn’t open it.”
“Where did it go?”
“Preacher.”
Caleb’s pulse jumped.
Mercer’s evidence had been taken directly after his death.
The robbery scene wasn’t designed to steal valuables.
It was designed to steal information.
“Did Preacher tell you Mercer was dead?”
“Later.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You continued working.”
Tyler looked ashamed for half a second.
Then hardened.
“He paid.”
Caleb stared.
“And now my sister was kidnapped.”
Tyler looked confused.
“What?”
That reaction seemed real.
“Emily Morgan.”
“I don’t know her.”
“Who would?”
“Preacher.”
“Where would he take somebody?”
Tyler shook his head.
“No idea.”
“Franklin Cycle?”
Tyler’s expression changed.
Caleb saw it.
“What?”
“Not the main warehouse.”
“What does that mean?”
“There’s another building.”
“Where?”
“Behind it.”
“Address?”
“Same property. Looks abandoned.”
“What’s inside?”
“I never went in.”
“But?”
“Preacher did.”
Caleb stood.
His phone buzzed.
Rawlings.
WARRANT SIGNED.
Caleb looked at Tyler.
“If my sister is there, you just helped yourself.”
Tyler laughed bitterly.
“If she’s there…”
“What?”
“You better move fast.”
Caleb’s face tightened.
“Why?”
Tyler looked toward the mirror.
May you like
“Preacher cleans places before midnight.”
It was 11:18.
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