Page 2 of Dead Air
"My source," Monica gasped. "It must be a setup."
Lawson peered around the car's bumper, trying to locate the shooter in the darkness. Another shot, this one closer, struck the pavement inches from her foot. The muzzle flash gave away the position—second-floor window of the warehouse.
"I'm calling for backup," Lawson said, reaching for her radio.
"No time," Monica replied, her own weapon drawn now. "We need to move. That car won't shield us for long."
Lawson nodded grimly. "On three, we make for the loading dock entrance. One … two …"
Before she could say "three," Monica was on her feet, sprinting toward the warehouse. Lawson cursed under her breath and followed, keeping low as another shot kicked up dirt at her heels. The loading dock was thirty yards away, exposed ground with no cover.
Lawson stood but a brilliant white floodlight suddenly blazed to life, mounted on the corner of the warehouse. The harsh beam swept across the lot, blinding her. She threw up her arm to shield her eyes, spots dancing in her vision.
In that blinding moment of vulnerability, a shot cracked through the night.
Lawson blinked to clear her vision. As the world came back into focus, she saw Monica standing exposed in the floodlight's merciless glare, her body jerking backward. A dark stain blossomed across her white blouse, spreading with terrifying speed.
"Monica!" Lawson screamed, lunging forward as her partner crumpled to the ground.
A figure emerged from the shadows at the edge of the light—just a silhouette, featureless and dark. Before Lawson could aim, the shooter melted back into the darkness, footsteps fading as they fled into the night.
Lawson reached Monica's side and dropped to her knees beside her fallen partner. Blood soaked Monica's clothes, hot and slick against Lawson's hands as she pressed down on the wound. Monica's eyes were wide with shock, her breathing already shallow and labored.
"I've got a 10-999! Officer down! Send help immediately!" Lawson shouted into her radio. "Warehouse district, oldpaper mill. Shots fired, officer down. Need immediate medical assistance!"
Monica's eyes fluttered weakly, her breathing shallow and rapid. Lawson pressed her hand against the wound in Monica's chest, feeling warm blood seep between her fingers.
"Stay with me, Mon," Lawson pleaded, tears blurring her vision. "Help is coming. Just stay with me."
"Monica?" Lawson's voice broke. "Monica!"
No response.
Lawson barely registered the approaching sirens, or the shouts of officers securing the perimeter. She remained kneeling beside Monica's body, her hand still futilely trying to stem the flow of blood from a heart that had already stopped beating.
Later, she would remember fragments of the aftermath. Someone pulling her away. The paramedics working frantically. The pronouncement of death at 11:47 p.m. Her supervisor, Captain Richardson, arriving on scene, his face a mask of professional concern as he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"We'll find who did this," he promised.
Lawson said nothing. Because she knew how corruption worked. It devoured everything, even the truth. Especially the truth.
Monica's source would never be found. The investigation would hit dead end after dead end until investigators eventually shelved it as an unsolved tragedy.
As the ambulance doors closed on Monica's body, Lawson made a silent vow. She would find justice for Monica, even if it took the rest of her life. Even if it meant becoming someone she barely recognized.
Even if it meant becoming someone Monica would have hated.
The first drops of rain began to fall, washing away the blood on the loading dock. But nothing would ever wash away Lawson's memory of this night.
Nor the guilt that would haunt her for years to come.
dead air episode 1:
"Silence in Savannah"
[Soft electronic theme music fades in, builds slightly, then quiets under narration]
LEAH BLACKWELL:Welcome to Dead Air. I'm Leah Blackwell, and this is the first episode of our new season: "Silence in Savannah."
