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Chapter 8

As we made our way out of the bullpen, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern for Ethan and excitement about the new lead. The Jane Doe email might just be the break we needed to finally bring Morales down.

As we were about to leave the building, my phone buzzed with a new message from the anonymous tipster.

"Ethan, look at this." I held out my phone, showing him the screen. "They've sent us another email. They say they'll give us more information if we meet them at the abandoned warehouse on East 3rd Street at midnight."

Ethan's eyes widened, and for a moment, I could see the frustration he felt at having to wait, but he finally asked, "You good for it?"

I hesitated for a moment, considering the risks involved. "I'm in," I replied.

The rest of the day passed in a blur as I weighed over saying anything about the call I’d made the evening before as he hadn’t brought it up. After a few seconds of bouncing it around, I decided to just wait.

OUTSIDE THE WAREHOUSE

I glanced at digital numbers on my watch; 1:00am.

“It’s 1:00 now,” I muttered. “I wonder if she’s going to show?”

Ethan shot me a sideways glance, but didn't respond. We'd parked our car a block away from the abandoned warehouse, and then walked as near to it as we dared. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of concrete and rust. I pulled my collar up to cover the wire leading to the miniature recorder in my lapel, and checked my gun for the hundredth time.

I hadn’t wanted to wear the wire, but Ethan and SSA Brighton had insisted. Just in case things went south, they said. Just in case the informant was lying and Morales had set us up. But as I stood in the dark, my heart pounding against my ribcage, I was glad for the extra edge it gave me. The way she'd described it in the emails, I'd imagined the abandoned warehouse as a labyrinth of concrete and metal, but as we approached, it seemed smaller than I'd expected. The only light came from a lone streetlamp down the block, casting eerie shadows across the rusted gate and the weeds that grew around it.

Ethan shifted beside me. Restlessness poured off him in waves. I knew he was uncomfortable about me meeting the informant alone. To be honest, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease myself. Something about this whole situation didn't sit right with me. It made me wonder how much she really knew, and who she was really working for.

As I stood there, lost in my thoughts, the lone street light flickered, casting strange shadows across the rusted gate. The air grew colder, and I couldn't shake off the feeling that we weren't alone. I glanced at my watch again, willing the time to pass faster.

"You still wanna do this?" Ethan whispered. "Maybe we should go back to the station, wait for her to make contact."

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. I want to see what she has to say."

As if in response, the gate creaked open, revealing a dark figure standing in the shadows beyond. Her features were obscured by the hood of her jacket, but she glanced at each of us before speaking.

"You must be Agent Leathers," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, trying to ignore the surge of adrenaline that raced through my veins. "And you are?"

She stepped forward into the faint light cast by the streetlamp. Her features were pale, her eyes large and dark within the covering of the hoodie. She wasn't as young as I'd expected from her emails. Late twenties, maybe. There was a sense of determination about her that I couldn't quite place.

“Call me Caroline," she said, her voice steady.

The air crackled with tension as Ethan and I exchanged glances. I wanted to believe her, but something about the way she was acting... It was almost as if she was expecting us to be suspicious.

"Caroline," I began, my voice carefully neutral, "why don't you tell us what you know about this Morales character?"

She took a step back, her expression guarded. "I thought you were meeting me alone," she said. "I didn't realize you'd brought your partner."

Ethan tensed beside me, but I kept my focus on Caroline. "It was a precaution," I said. "We needed to make sure we were dealing with the right person."

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "I understand." She took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "Look, I know this is risky for me. But I think I can help you."

Ethan glanced at me, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be weighing the options, trying to decide whether or not to trust her. I, on the other hand, felt a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. Something about her didn't quite add up, but there was also a certain honesty in her eyes that made me want to trust her.

"Caroline," I began, "why don't you start by telling us how you got involved with Morales in the first place."

She shivered slightly, as if from nerves or fear, before taking another step forward. "I used to work for him," she said softly. "I was his personal assistant. I did everything from filing his paperwork to organizing his parties."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "And you just decided to quit?"

She smiled bitterly. "No, not quite. I didn't quit until after I found out what he was really doing. What he was really involved in." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I found some files, some receipts. I didn't know what they meant at first, but I knew it wasn't good. So I started looking into it, and the more I dug, the more I found."

"And what did you find?" I asked, leaning in closer.

She hesitated, glancing between Ethan and me. "I found out about the girls," she said finally. "The ones he'd been taking... I couldn't believe it at first, but the evidence was right there in front of me. I had to do something."

A chill ran down my spine at her words. "So you decided to contact us?"

She nodded. "I knew I couldn't go to the police. They'd never believe me. I didn't have any proof. But I thought if I could get in touch with someone... someone who might be able to help me, then maybe we could stop him. Save those girls."

Her eyes were wide with fear and determination, and for a moment I believed her. But then I remembered the other victims we'd found, the ones who had never been reported missing. I had to be sure.

"Caroline," I said, my voice gentle but firm, "how can we be sure you're not involved? That you're not just another one of his pawns?"

She recoiled as if I'd struck her. "I'm not!" she cried. "I swear, I'm not. I've risked everything to be here tonight. I've risked my life." Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath before continuing. "Just give me a chance to prove it. Please."

Ethan and I exchanged another glance. He looked as uncertain as I felt. We couldn't just take her word for it, not with everything at stake. But at the same time, we couldn't afford to ignore her either.

"Alright," I said finally. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to keep you in protective custody until we can sort this all out. But if you're telling the truth, and you really want to help us, then you're going to need to tell us everything you know. Everything you found, everyone you talked to. Every little detail."

She nodded, her expression grim. "I understand. I'll tell you everything I can."

We led Caroline to the pickup and radioed for backup. While we waited, I pulled out my notepad and began to question her. As she spoke, her story slowly began to unravel, revealing a web of lies and deceit that stretched far deeper than we could have ever imagined.

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