Page 73 of Dirty Valentine
Potts raised her service weapon with deliberate slowness, pointing it directly at the camera lens.For a heartbeat, she held that pose—gun aimed, that terrifying smile never wavering, rain streaming down her face like tears of joy.
Then she pulled the trigger.
The screen exploded into static, white noise filling Jack’s office like electronic screaming.Doug frantically worked the controls, but the dash cam was dead, the connection severed by a well-placed bullet.
“That’s it,” Doug said quietly.“The feed ends there.”
Jack stood frozen, staring at the wall of static.The silence stretched between us like a taut wire, broken only by the storm outside and the hum of equipment.
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.“She shot into the car first.Before she took Dad.Can’t tell what the target was from this angle.”
My chest tightened, but I kept my voice steady.“Your father got out under his own power.That’s something.”
Jack was already reaching for his phone.“Doug, send Cole and Martinez the GPS coordinates for Unit 47.They need to locate that patrol car.”
Doug’s fingers flew across the keyboard.“Sending now.Last ping shows it stationary at mile marker 47 on Route 218.”
Jack put the call on speaker.“Cole, coordinates coming to you now.I need you and Martinez to locate Unit 47 immediately.”
“Copy that, Sheriff.En route now.”Cole’s voice was crisp, professional.“What are we looking for?”
“Abandoned patrol car.Potts used it to take my parents, then ditched it for their vehicle.Process it as a crime scene but don’t touch anything until Daniels gets there.”
“Understood.We’ll call as soon as we locate it.”
Jack ended the call and looked at Doug.“I need continuous monitoring on all emergency frequencies.If she tries to communicate, I want to know immediately.And Doug—keep this off the main channels.Potts is one of ours.She could be monitoring our systems.”
The wait was excruciating.I watched Jack pace his office with controlled energy, every muscle coiled tight.Twenty minutes felt like hours before his phone finally rang.
“Cole, report.”
“Found the patrol car at mile marker 47, exactly where Doug’s GPS showed.Vehicle’s abandoned, keys still in the ignition.No sign of Potts or your parents.”
“Evidence?”
“Clean scene on the patrol car itself.But we found a cell phone on the front seat, deliberately placed.Looks like she wanted us to find it.”
Jack’s expression remained unchanged.“Don’t touch it.Daniels will process it.Any sign of the Escalade?”
“Negative.No trace.”
“Copy that.Return here immediately.We’re establishing a command post.”
Jack ended the call and immediately dialed another number.“Daniels?I need you at my location.Just you and one person you trust completely—pick someone who can keep their mouth shut.We’ve got two active crime scenes and a kidnapping in progress, but the suspect is one of ours.Potts.We need to keep this tight.”
* * *
The house felt different with a command post taking shape in Jack’s office.What had been our sanctuary was now ground zero for a manhunt, with laptops, phones, and evidence boxes transforming the space into something that belonged more in a precinct than a home.
Cole and Martinez arrived within minutes of each other, both soaked from the storm that continued to rage outside.Derby came next, his equipment bags slung over both shoulders, glasses immediately fogging from the temperature change.Daniels arrived next, having stopped to collect evidence from the abandoned patrol car.She’d brought one of her CSI techs with her—the guy introduced himself as Pete Rogers—and Daniels said he was someone she trusted completely.
Plank, Chen, Riley, and Cheek rounded out the group.We’d all been in tough situations together before, and I knew more than anything that Jack could rely on them if things went bad.
“The phone Potts left was wiped clean,” Daniels said, setting an evidence bag on Jack’s desk.“But she wanted us to find it.Staged it like a theater production.I have no idea why she left it.There were no other personal effects in the vehicle.It’s been impounded.No sign of the Escalade.”
Jack stood at the digital murder board, every victim’s photo connected by a red line to locations, times, evidence.His parents’ photos were now at the center, two question marks beneath them indicating their unknown status.
“Let’s walk through this,” Jack said, his voice carrying that dangerous calm that meant he was thinking ten steps ahead.“Four days, three murders, one attempted murder, and now a kidnapping.The logistics alone are staggering.”
