"A 7-year-old girl called 911 at 2:17 a.m. because her mother hadn't returned home. When the police entered that dark apartment, the entire neighborhood stopped talking about child abandonment and started talking about terror. Rain hammered the apartment roof hard enough to rattle the dispatch center windows, and the emergency line carried a thin wash of static.

Elena stepped out of the hospital room, the heavy steel door clicking shut behind her. She leaned against the cold corridor wall and dialed David Vance’s personal cell number.

“David, I need a massive favor, and it’s going to risk your pension,” Elena said the moment he picked up.

“I’m already drinking terrible break-room coffee at 4 a.m., Elena. My life can’t get much worse. What do you need?”

“The father is Marcus Thorne. He has Sarah. He wants a digital ledger she stole, and he’s threatening to hit the hospital if I don’t deliver it by dawn.”

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. When David finally spoke, all the casual banter was gone. “Thorne owns half the precinct, Elena. You can’t put this in the system. If you log this evidence, one of his dirty cops will intercept it before the sun comes up.”

“I know,” Elena said, her eyes scanning the hospital hallway to ensure no one was listening. “That’s why I’m going off the grid. I have the location of the ledger. It’s in a locker at Grand Central Terminal. I’m going to get it.”

“You’re walking into a trap,” David warned. “If Thorne knows you’re involved, his men are probably already watching the terminal.”

“Let them watch,” Elena replied coldly. She stripped off her police-issued winter jacket with the bright reflective lettering, revealing a plain black tactical turtleneck underneath. She checked her service weapon, ensuring a round was chambered. “I need you to pull the security camera feeds for the transit hub. Be my eyes in the sky. If anyone moves toward Locker 409, I need to know before I walk through those doors.”

“I’m hacking the municipal feed now,” David said, the rapid clacking of a keyboard echoing over the phone. “Elena, be careful. If you get caught playing lone wolf against Thorne, the department will disavow you. You’ll go to prison.”