Chapter 6 - Daniel Price Had Scheduled Ronan’s DeathRonan called his captain from a secure phone Calder kept in the storage unit.
Not Daniel.
Not anyone connected to Bell Street.
Captain Marisol Vega had joined the department years after the fire.
Ronan trusted her because she had no reason to protect his past.
He gave her only enough.
“I need you to pull my status off normal channels.”
Vega went quiet.
“Why?”
“Possible compromised personnel information.”
“Yours?”
“Yes.”
“Are you in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“I can't say yet.”
“That is not an acceptable answer.”
“I know.”
“Ronan.”
He closed his eyes.
“I need two hours.”
“You have one.”
“Captain—”
“One.”
Then she said:
“And if this is related to Bell Street, don't lie to me.”
Ronan froze.
“How did you—”
“You've spent eight years pretending that case doesn't exist. Now you're calling from nowhere asking me to hide your location.”
Fair.
He gave her one name.
“Daniel Price.”
Silence.
Vega asked:
“What about him?”
“I need his recent access logs.”
“Why?”
“He may have pulled my personnel file.”
Vega's voice changed.
“I'll check.”
Ronan ended the call.
Tessa watched.
“You trust her?”
“Yes.”
Calder laughed.
“That confidence is adorable.”
Ronan glared.
“Say another word.”
Calder lifted both hands.
Evan asked:
“What if Price knows we met?”
“He probably doesn't yet.”
Tessa frowned.
“The men outside saw Ronan.”
Calder nodded.
“And they'll report.”
“So Dane knows.”
“Soon.”
Ronan said:
“Which means Price knows soon.”
Evan looked uneasy.
Then one of Tessa’s crew members, a man named Jordan, spoke.
“I’m leaving.”
Nobody reacted.
Jordan stepped toward the door.
“I’m serious.”
Ronan said:
“You walk out and they may follow you home.”
Jordan stopped.
“My girlfriend is pregnant.”
Tessa looked at him.
“Actually pregnant?”
He glared.
“Not the time.”
Ronan asked for her address.
Jordan hesitated.
Ronan said:
“Captain Vega can put a patrol nearby without telling her why.”
Jordan gave it.
The others slowly did the same.
The robbery crew that had surrounded Ronan an hour earlier now looked like frightened kids.
Ronan hated himself for feeling sympathy.
Then Vega called.
“Ronan.”
“What did you find?”
“Price accessed your restricted personnel record three times.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago. Five days ago. Yesterday.”
Calder’s expression hardened.
Ronan asked:
“Reason listed?”
“Internal wellness review.”
Ronan almost laughed.
“What wellness review?”
“None.”
“Can he access addresses?”
“Not normally. Someone elevated his permissions.”
“Who?”
“Working on it.”
“Captain—”
“There's more.”
Ronan waited.
“Price requested archive materials from Bell Street.”
His stomach tightened.
“What materials?”
“Undercover personnel identification.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“Evan Cross?”
Vega stopped.
“Why are you asking about Evan Cross?”
Ronan looked across the room at Evan.
“Because he's standing in front of me.”
Silence.
Then:
“Ronan, do not joke.”
“I’m not.”
Vega breathed once.
“Evan Cross is dead.”
“So is Martin Calder.”
Calder smiled.
Ronan added:
“He's here too.”
Another silence.
Longer.
Vega finally said:
“Send me your location now.”
“No.”
“Detective.”
“No normal units.”
“You think the department is compromised.”
“I know it was.”
“Was?”
Ronan looked at Calder.
“Maybe still is.”
Vega lowered her voice.
“I have three people I trust.”
“Names?”
She gave them.
Ronan knew two.
One was Internal Affairs.
Good.
“I'll send coordinates.”
“Ronan.”
“What?”
“Daniel Price called out sick twenty minutes ago.”
Ronan’s chest tightened.
“Where is he?”
“Unknown.”
Ronan ended the call.
Evan said:
“He's moving.”
Calder nodded.
“Daniel knows.”
Tessa asked:
“Knows what?”
“That Ronan survived tonight.”
Ronan thought of Price.
His friend.
The man who once saved him from a burning warehouse.
Now apparently arranging his death.
Why?
Money alone felt insufficient.
Something had changed recently.
“What happened two weeks ago?”
Ronan asked.
Calder frowned.
“What?”
“Why did Price pull my file two weeks ago?”
Nobody answered.
Ronan searched his own memory.
Two weeks earlier he testified in a routine vehicle-theft case.
Three weeks earlier, he attended a police retirement dinner.
Then he remembered.
“I reopened a cold evidence request.”
Calder’s expression changed.
“What evidence?”
“Bell Street.”
Evan stared.
“Why?”
Ronan hesitated.
“Because a stolen motorcycle recovered last month had a Bell Street marking.”
Tessa looked at Evan.
“What marking?”
Ronan answered:
“A small double-ring stamp on the frame.”
Evan went pale.
Calder whispered:
“No.”
Ronan looked at him.
“You know it.”
Calder paced.
“That mark belonged to Dane’s export line.”
“So?”
“So it disappeared after Bell Street.”
Ronan felt cold.
“I requested archived records.”
“And Price saw.”
“Yes.”
Calder stared at him.
“You made yourself a problem again.”
Ronan’s phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
STOP DIGGING.
Then another.
YOU WERE GIVEN EIGHT EXTRA YEARS.
Ronan stared.
Tessa whispered:
“That’s creepy.”
A third message appeared.
THIS TIME PRICE WON’T PULL YOU OUT.
Ronan looked at Evan.
Calder.
Then the screen.
The sender knew what happened at the warehouse.
Very few people should.
Ronan typed one response.
WHO IS THIS?
No answer.
Instead a photograph arrived.
Daniel Price.
Sitting at a table.
Hands tied.
Blood on his shirt collar, though no graphic injury was visible.
His face frightened.
Behind him stood a man Ronan recognized from newspapers.
Victor Dane.
Below the photograph:
BRING THE BELL STREET FILE.
Ronan stopped breathing.
Daniel had not scheduled Ronan’s death.
Or at least not tonight.
May you like
Someone had used Daniel’s access.
And now Price himself was a hostage.
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