Page 59 of Twice Missing
As they were about to pull away, Noah's attention was drawn back to the scene they were leaving. Through the rearview mirror, he caught sight of Oates engaged in an intense conversation with Jacob. The detective's body language shifted abruptly; tension visible even from a distance.
Oates suddenly broke away from Jacob, his hand flying to his radio. Noah watched as the detective's expression changed, a mix of urgency and concern etching itself across his features. In a matter of seconds, Oates was shouting orders to nearby officers, his voice carrying even over the ambient noise of the fire cleanup.
The effect was immediate. Officers who had been milling about the scene suddenly snapped to attention, rushing towards their vehicles with a sense of purpose that hadn't been there moments before. The quiet of the reservation was shattered as sirens blared to life and emergency lights began to flash, painting the snowy landscape in alternating red and blue.
As the tribal police vehicles peeled out of the area at high speed, their tires kicking up slush and gravel, Noah and McKenzie exchanged a loaded glance.
"What do you think that was all about?" McKenzie asked.
Noah's eyes narrowed, his mind already racing through possibilities. Whatever had just happened, it was big enough to mobilize the entire force in a matter of moments. His gut told him this wasn't unrelated to their investigation.
"Let's find out," Noah said, his voice filled with determination. He put the cruiser in gear, ready to follow the trail of flashing lights disappearing down the snowy road.
23
Noah and McKenzie followed the convoy of tribal police vehicles through the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation, where snow blanketed the landscape, turning it into a serene canvas of white and gray.
As they wound through the narrow streets, Noah's grip tightened on the steering wheel. The flashing lights of the police cruisers ahead cast eerie blue and red patterns across the terrain.
"Looks like we're heading back to Marcus Rivers' place," McKenzie said.
Noah nodded, his jaw set. "Let's hope this time we get some answers."
As they approached the familiar stretch of road leading to Marcus' trailer, Noah's instincts kicked in. He veered off to the side, positioning their vehicle at a discreet distance from the unfolding scene. The engine's low rumble was the only sound in the otherwise silent morning.
From their vantage point, they watched as the tribalcops swarmed the area. Officers moved with practiced precision, their boots crunching in the fresh snow as they fanned out around the trailer. The cold air carried the sound of radios crackling with terse commands and updates.
Two officers approached the trailer's door, their breath visible in small clouds as they called out. "Marcus Rivers! This is the Tribal Police. Come out with your hands up!"
Noah rolled down his window, the frigid air rushing in as he strained to hear the exchange. The muffled voice from inside the trailer was defiant and angry.
"You need a warrant! You're not getting in here without a warrant!"
The officers exchanged glances, their faces grim. One of them called out again, his voice firm but controlled. "Come on outside, Marcus. We just want to talk!"
"Get off my property, or I'll set my dogs on you!"
Noah's brow furrowed as he processed the escalating situation. He knew from experience that if this was just about the fire at Jacob's place, they'd be taking a more diplomatic approach. De-escalation was always preferable to confrontation. But the urgency in the officers' movements suggested something far more serious was at play.
"They're not backing down," Noah murmured, more to himself than to McKenzie. "Whatever this is about, it's big."
His suspicions were confirmed when one of the officers motioned to his colleague. The second officer quickly retreated to a cruiser, returning moments later with a menacing battering ram. The sight of the heavy metal toolsent a clear message: they were prepared to breach the door by force if necessary.
"They're going to breach the door," Noah said, tension coiling in his gut.
McKenzie leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before them. "This will be interesting," he remarked, his tone a mix of professional curiosity and apprehension.
The officer with the battering ram took a few determined steps towards the trailer's door. The morning air seemed to hold its breath, the silence before the storm.
Suddenly, a deafening crack split the air. A bullet tore through the trailer's door, the sound of splintering wood echoing across the snowy landscape. In the next instant, glass shattered as more rounds punched through the trailer's windows.
“Shit!” McKenzie exclaimed, ducking instinctively despite their distance from the action.
The peaceful winter morning erupted into chaos. Gunfire exploded from the trailer, a steady stream of bullets peppering the area around the officers. The tribal police scattered, diving for cover behind their cruisers and the sparse trees dotting the property. Snow kicked up in small explosions as rounds hit the ground, the white powder momentarily obscuring the scene.
Noah's hand moved to his own weapon, though he knew they were too far to intervene safely. His heart raced as he watched the tribal officers return fire, their shots precise but seemingly ineffective against the barricaded suspect.
The air filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder, mixing with the crisp scent of pine and snow. The staccato of gunfire echoed off the surrounding trees, creating a disorienting cacophony of sound. Shell casings glinted as they fell into the snow, steam rising from their hot metal surfaces.
