"Do you know where it happened? We need to head there now," Jack said as he pulled open the driver's door, turning to look at LaCroix.
"Yes, I know," LaCroix replied after a moment of stunned silence. His usual composure was completely gone. "It's at a migrant relief center on Long Island."
The heavy Suburban screeched as Jack made a sharp U-turn, the tires squealing loudly against the asphalt.
Jack quickly called Dana Moret to give her a brief summary of the situation while steering the vehicle. Then he glanced back at LaCroix in the rear seat, who looked completely lost in thought.
"It's clear they've been targeting you from the start," Jack said, his tone sharp. "At the ransom drop-off, Tyger Kane recognized you instantly and even knew about your daughter."
LaCroix rubbed his face with both hands, trying to regain his composure. After a moment, he nodded heavily. "You're right, Jack. They definitely have someone on the inside—someone in the system."
By "the system," LaCroix wasn't just referring to the FBI. He meant the broader federal enforcement apparatus, which included agencies like ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement).
The infiltration made sense. Tyger Kane's rhetoric, while extreme and idiotic, appealed to a significant subset of the population. Among federal law enforcement officers, there were bound to be sympathizers, especially given the divisive political climate in the country. Kane's years of illegal rallies and speeches had likely drawn a few sympathizers into his orbit.
The Suburban soon arrived at the Long Island relief center, which was essentially a "food bank." In earlier times, it might have been called a charity house or a poorhouse.
This particular center catered to undocumented immigrants who didn't qualify for government welfare. Unlike homeless U.S. citizens who could rely on food stamps, shelters, and other public resources, undocumented migrants had no such safety net. Some were so afraid of deportation that they wouldn't even dare to step inside shelters offering free hot meals.
This food bank operated specifically for people like them, staffed by individuals who had recently gained legal status and wanted to help others in similar situations.
At the entrance stood a young Black man with dreadlocks, his face still showing traces of lingering fear. He stepped forward to meet them as they approached.
"We were about to close for the day when those ICE agents barged in. They forced everyone to line up and started checking IDs," the man explained.
"Did they show a warrant?" Hannah asked, her brows furrowed.
"I didn't see one," the man replied, shaking his head. "They ended up taking ten Latina girls with them—and Tali, too."
Despite his dreadlocks, the young man spoke clearly and calmly, without the street slang often stereotyped in his community.
"Didn't anyone tell them who Tali is?" LaCroix asked as he stepped forward, shaking the man's hand. It was clear the two knew each other.
"Of course we told them!" The man led them inside as he spoke, his frustration evident. "I kept shouting that she's a local middle school student. Other kids helping here told them the same. Tali even told one of them her dad is with the FBI."
"And what happened?" LaCroix pressed.
"Their lead agent just said she 'didn't look American enough' and took her anyway. I'm sorry, you know how things are here. None of us dared to stop them," the man said apologetically.
It was clear that he, too, was newly documented and hadn't yet become a U.S. citizen. His fear of ICE was understandable.
"That's ironic. Tali's probably the most 'American' person here," Jack remarked dryly. He'd learned about LaCroix's family situation during their drive to the center and couldn't help but let out a sarcastic jab.
Tali's mother was a Native American soldier who had died serving in Afghanistan. By any measure—heritage or sacrifice—Tali was as American as one could get, even if her mixed-race appearance made her look Latina to uninformed bigots.
"I'm sorry. I really tried to help," the young man said, guilt written all over his face.
Jack waved him off, signaling that his frustration wasn't directed at him. The situation was clear: ICE agents had deliberately targeted Tali. After all, a young Girl Scout volunteering at a food bank wouldn't be carrying ID with her.
As the group moved deeper into the center, they came across a small group of white children wearing Scout uniforms, standing with their parents. The kids looked frightened, their faces pale and unsettled, likely still shaken by the earlier raid.
"What the hell is going on here?" A short, stout Native American man stormed toward LaCroix, his face livid with anger. Jack guessed this must be LaCroix's father-in-law, Tali's maternal grandfather.
"This is Tali's friend Chloe," the older man said, holding up a phone. He gestured toward a red-haired girl standing nearby. "She just gave me this. Why wouldn't they let her keep her phone?"
The girl looked to be about the same age as Tali and was standing with her parents, visibly upset.
"I need to make some calls," LaCroix said, pulling out his phone. Though he had regained his usual calm demeanor on the surface, the slight tremor in his hands betrayed his inner turmoil.
"I'm going with you," the older man said, his lips quivering with barely restrained fury. Having already lost his daughter, his granddaughter was now his only anchor in the world.
"Leave it to me, Nelson. Mary Lou isn't in great health—she needs you. This is just a stupid misunderstanding. I'll bring Tali home soon. She's a tough girl; she'll be fine," LaCroix reassured him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
He avoided mentioning the true severity of the situation, not wanting to further alarm the older man.
At that moment, Jack, Hannah, and LaCroix's phones all started ringing simultaneously. The sound, so sudden and synchronized, sent a chill down their spines like an ominous premonition.
Jack answered first. Dana Moret's voice came through, heavy with barely restrained fury. "Emma Kane just walked into St. Mary's Church in Saugerties and opened fire. Twelve pregnant women are dead, and thirteen others are injured. Most of the victims were undocumented immigrants—Latinas."
Hannah and LaCroix received the same update from different sources. Protocol dictated that they should now head back to the operations center immediately.
Seeing the conflict on LaCroix's face, Jack made the decision for him. "We'll head back to Manhattan together. Hannah, go straight to the office and gather the details. I'll go with LaCroix to the ICE field office in New York."
LaCroix nodded silently, his jaw tightening as he followed Jack out the door.
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