He held the phone up, turning the screen so Miller could see it.
Even from a few feet away, I could see what was on the screen. It was a live video feed. It showed the top of the gas station canopy, the silver roof of my car, Miller standing there, and Hayes holding the phone. It was a 4K, crystal-clear overhead shot.
"The 'keep recording' wasn't a voicemail, Miller," Hayes said softly. "It was a direct line to the surveillance van parked behind that billboard you thought you were hiding behind."
Miller stared at the screen, the malicious grin melting off his face like wax.
"And as for your backup," Hayes added, his voice hardening into absolute steel. "You might want to check your radio."
Chapter 3: The Final Report
Miller ripped the radio mic off his shoulder, staring down at it in disbelief.
He keyed the button again, screaming into it. "Dispatch! Code three! Officer needs assistance!"
Nothing but a faint, rhythmic static hissed back.
"We jammed your frequency ten minutes ago," Hayes said, finally closing the distance between them. He stopped just two feet from Miller, completely dominating the space. "You’ve been cut off from dispatch since the moment you put your hand on her car door. You are entirely alone."
The reality of his situation finally crashed down on Miller. His chest heaved, his eyes wide with a panicked, animalistic terror. He looked past Hayes, looking for an escape route, a way to run.
But before he could move, the dark street suddenly lit up.
Three pairs of high-beam headlights flooded the gas station parking lot, blindingly bright. Tires screeched on the wet pavement as three unmarked black SUVs swarmed the lot, completely boxing in Miller’s lone patrol cruiser.
The doors of the SUVs flew open simultaneously. Five men and women in dark rain jackets with the words "STATE POLICE - PIU" printed in bold yellow letters poured out, moving with terrifying, practiced efficiency.
Miller threw his hands in the air, backing up until he hit the side of my car.
From the lead SUV, a tall, older man with silver hair and a heavy trench coat stepped out. He didn't rush. He walked with the heavy, exhausted authority of a man who had seen too many good badges ruined by bad men.
"Captain Vance," Miller gasped, his voice breaking as he recognized his own precinct commander walking alongside the state agents.