Chapter 3 - The Blue Wall
The harsh fluorescent lights of the St. Jude Medical Center waiting room flickered slightly, casting pale shadows across the linoleum floor. It had been four hours since they rushed Maya into emergency surgery.
My tactical vest was unvelcroed, sitting on the plastic chair next to me. My uniform shirt was stained with my sister's blood.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Captain Miller, the precinct commander, walked toward me. He wasn't wearing a uniform; he was wearing an expensive tailored suit he couldn't possibly afford on a police salary. Miller was known for playing golf at the same exclusive country club as Vance Whitmore.
“Lauren,” Captain Miller said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “How is she?”
“She’s in an emergency C-section,” I replied coldly. “Her placenta abrupted from the blunt force trauma. Where is Vance?”
Miller sighed, running a hand over his thinning hair. “Vance is at the station. We’re taking his statement. But Lauren, we have a massive problem here. You broke into a prominent citizen's home without a warrant.”
“Exigent circumstances,” I fired back instantly. “I had a recorded 911 call from the victim inside the premises indicating immediate threat to life. It’s textbook legal.”
“You’re her sister, Lauren. It’s a massive conflict of interest,” Miller countered, his tone hardening. “Vance’s lawyers are already threatening a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the city. They claim Maya tripped on the rug due to pregnancy clumsiness, and you used the opportunity to launch a vendetta because you’ve never liked him. I need your badge, your gun, and your body camera. You’re suspended pending Internal Affairs review.”
I stared at him. The corruption wasn't even subtle.
Slowly, I unclipped my badge and handed it to him. I placed my Glock 19 on the table. Finally, I unclipped the black Axon body camera from my vest and handed it over.
Miller smiled, a greasy, relieved expression washing over his face. He thought he had just secured the evidence that would clear his wealthy friend.
He didn't know that during the ambulance ride, while I was holding Maya's hand, I had synced the camera to my encrypted department smartphone. I had uploaded the entire 4K video—including Vance holding the documents and Constance wiping the blood—to an independent, secure federal cloud server.
“Have fun reviewing the footage, Captain,” I said smoothly.
Before he could respond, the heavy double doors of the surgical ward swung open. A surgeon in blood-spattered green scrubs walked out, pulling off his surgical mask.
“Family of Maya Whitmore?”
I shot up from my chair. “I’m her sister. How are they?”
The surgeon offered a tired but genuine smile. “It was incredibly close. But she’s stable. And your niece is a fighter. She’s in the NICU, but she’s breathing on her own.”
I collapsed back into the chair, covering my face with my hands as a ragged sob of relief tore through my chest. Maya was alive. The baby was alive.
May you like
Now, I could focus on destroying the man who almost killed them.
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