Chapter 6 - The Alliance in the ShadowsI needed help, but it couldn't come from the police. It had to come from someone who lived outside the system—someone who knew how to operate in the dark just as well as Viktor Vance’s mercenaries.
Driving out to the industrial district on the edge of town, I pulled up in front of a weathered auto repair shop with a faded sign that read Tommy's Garage. Tommy had been a mechanic in the Gulf War before a shrapnel injury sent him home. He was also Darla’s high school sweetheart, a man who had never quite forgiven himself for letting her go, and someone who still looked out for our family from a distance.
Tommy was under the hood of a rusted pickup truck when I walked in, wiping grease from his hands with a dirty rag.
"Carolyn? What are you doing out here? Is everything okay with the kids?" Tommy asked, dropping his wrench immediately when he saw the look on my face.
"Tommy, I need you to listen to me, and you cannot ask questions," I said, my voice shaking as I grabbed his flannel sleeve. "Darla didn't die in an accident. They murdered her."
Tommy went completely still. The color drained from his weathered face. "What did you say?"
In rapid succession, I explained everything: the delivery, the video, the men in the diner, and the midnight ultimatum at the old cannery pier. By the time I finished, Tommy’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles had turned white.
"The bastards," Tommy growled, a dangerous light flashing in his eyes. "They killed my Darla."
"They're waiting for me to hand over the drive tomorrow night," I said. "And they think I'm just a helpless old grandmother who will walk right into their trap."
"They don't know who they're messing with," Tommy said grimly, walking over to his office and pulling a heavy steel lockbox out from beneath a workbench. He popped it open, revealing an old hunting rifle, two handboxes of ammunition, and a tactical tactical flashlight. "What's your play, Carolyn?"
"We don't give them the real drive," I said, a cold, calculating determination settling over my bones. "We give them a decoy. And while they think they've won, we use the real evidence to blow their entire operation wide open."
"And who do we give the real evidence to?" Tommy asked. "If the local cops are dirty, who's left?"
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"Federal investigators outside our jurisdiction," I replied. "I have an old college friend whose daughter is an FBI field director in Washington. I called her this morning before I left the house."
Tommy stared at me for a long moment, a slow, grim smile spreading across his face. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Carolyn."
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