No lights.
No sirens.
No warning.
The station had given enough warning to itself already.
Inside, a patrol officer looked out the front window and froze.
A mug dropped near dispatch and shattered.
Someone yelled for Hale.
Someone else said, “No, no, no.”
Claire stood by Reyes near the front entrance.
She wore dark slacks now, boots, her bureau windbreaker zipped halfway, hair tied back. The cut on her heel was bandaged. Her face looked rested only if you did not know what tired really looked like.
Reyes nodded once.
“Ready?”
Claire looked at the building.
Two years of covert work.
Fifteen years of learning how corruption nested itself inside routine.
Hundreds of hours.
Dozens of victims.
Stacks of reports.
And all of it had led here.
“Yes.”
The doors opened.
Reyes entered first.
“Federal authority. Nobody move.”
His voice cracked through the lobby like a rifle shot.
Officers stopped mid-step.
