Chapter 11
"Laura, damn it, don't you dare hang up on me!" Harlan yelled through the speaker, but Laura had already made up her mind.
She couldn't risk the police blundering into the railyard with sirens blaring, giving Vincent the excuse he needed to pulled the trigger. She needed to play the game just long enough for Harlan to position his men silently.
"I'm driving to the railyard now, Harlan," Laura said, forcing herself to calm down, her voice becoming deadly serious. "I am going to keep my phone active on this line. Toss it in my purse. You can trace my GPS, and you can listen to everything that happens. But you have to stay back until I give you a sign. If you rush him, he will kill her."
There was a tense, agonizing pause on the other end of the line. Harlan was a seasoned detective, and he knew the immense danger she was putting herself in, but he also realized he had no way to physically stop her before she reached the location.
"Fine," Harlan growled, his voice tight with immense stress. "Keep the line open. My tactical unit is already moving toward the North District. We will cut our sirens and approach on foot through the southern tree line. Do not try to be a hero, Laura. Just get his attention and keep him talking."
"I'll try," Laura whispered.
She placed the phone face-up on the passenger seat, ensuring the microphone wasn't blocked by the shattered glass. She reached into her purse and pulled out the crumpled map she had taken from the tactical briefcase.
The North District railyard was a massive, desolate wasteland of rusted train cars, overgrown weeds, and abandoned brick maintenance sheds. It had been shut down for over two decades, making it the perfect place for a criminal execution.
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Laura pulled her car off the main road, turning onto a dirt track that led into the heart of the railyard. The tires crunched over gravel and broken glass. In the distance, looming like a giant metal skeleton against the graying sky, was the main repair depot.
The building marked with the red X.
