Sheila agreed.
Then she remembered something.
"The man at the theater."
"What about him?"
"He limped."
"Which leg?"
"Left."
Camille froze.
Captain Dane had an old knee injury.
But that still wasn't proof.
Then Sheila added:
"He wore a city maintenance jacket."
"Did you see his face?"
"No."
"Anything else?"
Sheila thought.
"He had a ring."
"What kind?"
"Black metal."
"Anything on it?"
"Three letters."
"What letters?"
Sheila closed her eyes.
"ND."
Northstar Dane.
The security company.
Camille immediately ordered surveillance on Peter Dane.
But before they could move, someone attempted to destroy the evidence.
At 2:14 a.m., the Meridian Logistics warehouse caught fire.
Firefighters arrived within minutes.
The fire appeared to have started in an electrical room.
But investigators quickly noticed something.
The sprinklers had been manually disabled.
The security cameras had been disconnected.
The fire destroyed several storage areas.
But not everything.
A metal cabinet survived.
Inside was a paper ledger.
No encryption.
No passwords.
No digital records.
Just names.
Dates.
Payments.
At the top of the first page was a single word:
EXCHANGE.
The last page contained a list of upcoming shipments.
The next shipment was scheduled for Friday.
Destination:
Hawthorne Park.
Collector:
Sheila Marlowe.
But Sheila was in federal custody.
Which meant someone else would have to take the package.
And the investigators realized the trafficking organization didn't know that yet.
For the first time, the police had an advantage.
They could let the criminals believe the system was still working.
They could create one more package.
One more delivery.
One final trap.
The operation was named "Night Porch."
Only twelve people knew about it.
Grant was not one of them.
He learned about it later.
At the time, all he knew was that Agent Rhodes asked him to leave his house for several hours.
"You need to be somewhere safe."
"Why?"
"Because we're going to use your address."
Grant stared at her.
"You want another package on my porch."
"Yes."
"Who takes it?"
"We don't know yet."
"What if it's Sheila?"
"She won't be released."
"Then who?"
Camille looked at him.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
The package contained no drugs.
No money.
No dangerous material.
Inside were harmless documents designed to look valuable.
The outside carried a legitimate shipping label.
The package was tracked.
The delivery route was monitored.
The courier was monitored.
The warehouse was monitored.
And every person with access was investigated.
This time, nobody was told the exact timing.
Not even Lena.
She had been reinstated as an observer under federal authority, but Camille deliberately kept the operation compartmentalized.
If someone leaked information, they wanted to know where the leak came from.
The package left the distribution center at 11:06 a.m.
At 11:21, it stopped.
At 11:29, it moved again.
At 11:47, it entered Hawthorne Park.
The delivery driver placed it on Grant's porch.
Then left.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened.
Thirty minutes.
Forty.
Then a woman appeared.
Not Sheila.
A stranger.
She walked slowly.
She looked at the package.
She checked her phone.
Then she picked it up.
Agents followed.
She carried it to a parked vehicle.
Inside the vehicle was Peter Dane.
The woman got into the passenger seat.
The vehicle drove away.
Federal agents followed from a distance.
Peter led them to an industrial property outside Bellmont.
The building was registered to a shell company.
Inside were six men.
Two warehouse workers.
Three couriers.
And a man sitting behind a desk.
CarterLane.
His real name was Marcus Bell.
He had never met Sheila.
He had never called her.
He had used anonymous accounts.
Marcus wasn't the leader of the Bellmont Exchange.
He was a coordinator.
A middle layer.
He knew enough to be dangerous.
Not enough to know everything.
But Marcus made one mistake.
He carried a handwritten notebook.
Inside were instructions.
Payments.
Routes.
And a name repeated several times.
DANE.
Federal agents arrested him.
He immediately requested a lawyer.
He refused to speak.
Then Camille placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Peter Dane entering the abandoned theater.
Marcus looked at it.
Nothing.
Then she placed another photograph beside it.
Captain Russell Dane.
Marcus's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Camille saw it.
"How much did he pay you?"
Marcus said nothing.
"How many police operations did you compromise?"
Silence.
"Who gave you the surveillance information?"
Marcus leaned back.
"You already know."
"We want you to say it."
He smiled.
"Then you'll have to prove it."
Across town, Internal Affairs searched Captain Dane's office.
His computer had been wiped.
His phone had been reset.
His desk was clean.
Too clean.
Then investigators found something in the trash.
A torn piece of paper.
Three words:
Hawthorne Friday 2:30.
The same time the next shipment was scheduled.
Captain Dane denied knowing anything.
Peter Dane denied everything.
Marcus refused to cooperate.
But the evidence was beginning to align.
Financial records.
Surveillance.
Warehouse access.
Police patrol changes.
Delivery schedules.
Phone records.
Then investigators found the final connection.
A city vehicle had been used repeatedly near the abandoned theater.
The vehicle was officially assigned to a municipal maintenance department.
But its GPS showed that it had been near drug storage locations dozens of times.
The vehicle's access card belonged to Peter Dane.
The city jacket belonged to Russell Dane.
The brothers had built a system where either could appear without attracting attention.
Peter controlled private security.
Russell controlled police information.
Together, they could see what investigators were doing before warrants were executed.
The Bellmont Exchange wasn't merely protected by criminals.
It was protected by information.
That was why the network had survived.
But now that information was flowing in the opposite direction.
Federal agents knew.
Internal Affairs knew.
The prosecutor's office knew.
The question was whether they could arrest the people at the top without allowing the network to disappear.
Then Sheila provided the breakthrough.