Chapter 269

Chapter 269:

Morgan nodded. “Call to the FBI tip line. Operator said he identified himself as Herod Preston. Said he wanted to turn himself in. Then she heard gunshots and the line went dead.”

“So she shot him to keep him from talking.” Chen looked at the man being loaded onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask covering his face, IV lines already running into his arms. “But she failed. He’s still alive.”

“For now,” Morgan said grimly. “Doctor says it’s fifty-fifty at best.”

Chen watched as the medical team rushed Preston out to the waiting ambulance. “Put guards on him at the hospital. If he wakes up, I want to be the first person he talks to.”

“Already arranged.” Morgan handed her an evidence bag containing a phone.

“Found this in his jacket pocket. Tech team’s working on it now.”

“And the woman? Rose Lewis?”

“APB is out. Every law enforcement agency in the state is looking for her.” Morgan’s face hardened. “She won’t get far.”

Chen wasn’t so sure. Women like Rose Lewis, women who could shoot a man three times and still have the presence of mind to escape through a bathroom window, were dangerous precisely because they were resourceful. Adaptable.

“Check the surrounding buildings for security cameras,” Chen ordered. “Traffic cams too. I want to know which direction she went.”

As the team dispersed to carry out her instructions, Chen stood in the center of the room, trying to read the story written in blood and bullet holes. Herod Preston had been ready to confess. To implicate Rose Lewis in the bombings. And she had tried to kill him for it.

What had Preston been about to reveal? What secrets was Rose Lewis willing to kill for?

Chen didn’t know yet. But she would find out. And when she did, Rose Lewis would have nowhere left to hide. The chase was on.

Camille stood at the window of her office, a cup of coffee cooling in her hands as she watched the city below. The Phoenix Grid had fully recovered from the bombings, with the repairs finished ahead of schedule. In two days, Kane Industries would host its annual charity gala, celebrating both the Grid’s success and raising money for the children’s hospital. Everything was going according to plan.

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Until Alexander Pierce walked in, his face grim.

“We need to talk,” he said, closing the door behind him.

Something in his voice made Camille’s stomach tighten. She set down her coffee cup. “What happened?”

Alexander loosened his tie, a gesture he only made when upset. “Herod Preston was shot three times in a motel room yesterday. He’d called the FBI to turn himself in, but before they got there, someone tried to kill him.”

“Rose,” Camille said immediately. It wasn’t a question.

Alexander nodded. “The motel room was registered under her name. She escaped through the bathroom window. Police are still looking for her.”

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