Maya's POV
I stared at the text message until my vision blurred.
"Your brother says hello. He'll keep saying hello as long as you behave."
They had Brian. The people who killed Emma Chen now had my brother, and they were using him to control me. To keep me quiet. To make me disappear.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to punch something. Wanted to drive to every building in this town until I found him.
But that's what they expected. That's what would get us both killed.
I forced myself to breathe slowly. Think like a cop, Maya. What would you do if this was any other case?
Document everything. Gather evidence. Find leverage.
Then burn their whole operation to the ground.
I screenshot the text, backed it up to three different cloud services, and sent copies to Zoe in Sacramento—my best friend from the academy, the only person who still believed I was innocent. If something happened to me, at least someone would know the truth.
Then I grabbed my running shoes.
The coastal trail started at the north end of town, winding along cliffs that dropped straight down to the ocean. At 5 AM, it was empty except for the gulls and the sound of waves crashing against rocks.
Perfect.
I needed to clear my head. Needed to think. And I needed to scope out the town without looking suspicious. In my experience, early morning joggers were invisible—just another part of the scenery that people ignored.
I ran hard, pushing my body until my lungs burned and my legs ached. The pain felt good. Real. It drowned out the panic trying to claw its way up my throat.
Brian's face kept flashing through my mind. The way he'd looked at me yesterday—terrified, desperate, trying to protect me even while working for monsters.
What had they done to him? How had they trapped him?
And why Emma? What had a seventeen-year-old girl seen that was worth killing her over?
The trail curved around a rocky outcrop. A smaller path branched off, barely visible, leading down toward a hidden cove. I almost ran past it.
Then I saw the shoe.
Small. Pink. Lying on its side at the path's entrance.
Every cop instinct I had started screaming.
I stopped running and walked slowly toward the shoe. It was a sneaker, size six maybe, designed for a teenager. There was a name written on the side in black marker: "E. Chen."
My heart dropped into my stomach.
I looked down the narrow path. It was steep, barely more than a game trail, with loose rocks and thorny bushes. At the bottom, maybe thirty feet down, I could see a small cove cut off from the main beach by jagged rocks.
And something dark lying motionless on those rocks.
"No," I whispered.
But I was already climbing down, my hands grabbing roots and rocks for balance, my former training taking over. Secure the scene. Check for vitals. Call it in.
Don't think about the fact that it's a kid. Don't think about her grandmother waiting for answers. Don't think about how she had her whole life ahead of her.
Just do the job.
The climb took three minutes that felt like hours. My hands were scraped and bleeding by the time I reached the bottom. The cove was small, maybe twenty feet across, hidden from view unless you knew exactly where to look.
And there, sprawled across the rocks like a broken doll, was Emma Chen.
I knew it was her even before I saw her face. Same dark hair from the photos. Same build. Same—
I forced myself to move closer. To check for a pulse even though I knew I wouldn't find one.
Her skin was cold. Stiff. She'd been dead for hours, maybe days.
But something was wrong.
I'd worked homicide in LA for three years before everything fell apart. I'd seen jumpers before. Knew what they looked like when they hit rocks from a height.
Emma's body was positioned wrong. The angle of impact didn't match a fall from the cliff above. And her hands—I lifted them carefully—had defensive wounds. Scratches. Broken nails. Signs of a struggle.
This wasn't suicide. Wasn't an accident.
This was murder, staged to look like something else.
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I found a body. Emma Chen. She's in a cove off the coastal trail, about two miles north of town." My voice sounded steady even though my insides were churning. "I'm a former detective. This is a crime scene. You need homicide here, not just patrol."
"Ma'am, are you certain the individual is deceased?"
"Yes. She's been dead for at least twelve hours. And this wasn't an accident or suicide. Someone killed her and dumped her here."
A pause. "Please stay on the line. Officers are en route."
I looked at Emma's face. Her eyes were closed, at least. Small mercy. She looked peaceful except for the bruising on her throat—finger marks, like someone had choked her before throwing her off the cliff.
Rage burned through me, hot and sharp.
Whoever did this thought they'd get away with it. Thought they could kill a child and call it an accident. Thought no one would care enough to look closer.
They were wrong.
I started documenting everything with my phone's camera, careful not to disturb the body. The position. The wounds. The rocks around her. The way her other shoe was still on her foot, laces tied, which meant she wasn't running away when she went over the cliff.
She was carried.
Or thrown.
Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer fast. Too fast. Like they'd been waiting for this call.
I took one last photo of Emma's hands—her broken nails had skin under them, like she'd scratched her attacker—then stepped back from the body.
The first police car arrived in under five minutes. Chief Harris climbed down the path with two officers I didn't recognize, moving faster than a man his age should be able to.
"Ms. Reeves." His voice was carefully neutral. "I understand you found the body."
"Emma Chen. She was murdered. This is a crime scene that needs to be processed properly."
"That's not your determination to make anymore." He walked past me to Emma, looked down for maybe ten seconds, then turned to his officers. "Radio the coroner. Tell him we found Emma Chen. Looks like she jumped from the cliff. Tragic accident."
My blood went cold. "Are you serious? Look at her hands. Look at the bruising on her throat. Look at the angle of impact—"
"Ms. Reeves." Chief Harris's friendly mask slipped, showing something cold and hard underneath. "You're not a detective anymore. You're a civilian who happened to find a body. We appreciate you calling it in, but we'll take it from here."
"You're covering it up." I couldn't stop the words. "You're going to rule this an accident or suicide and bury it, just like you've buried everything else wrong in this town."
The two officers moved closer, hands near their weapons.
Chief Harris smiled. "You sound paranoid. Almost like someone suffering from PTSD after a traumatic incident in Los Angeles. Someone who might see crimes that don't exist because she's not mentally stable."
The threat was clear. Shut up or we'll paint you as crazy.
"I have photos," I said. "I documented everything before you got here."
"Did you?" Harris held out his hand. "Then you won't mind sharing those with the investigating officers. Hand over your phone, please."
"Not without a warrant."
"This is an active death investigation. I can seize evidence relevant to—"
"Then get a warrant." I backed away from them, my phone clutched tight. "I know my rights. You want my phone, you go through proper channels."
Harris's smile vanished. "You're making a mistake."
"No. The mistake was thinking you'd actually do your job."
I turned and scrambled back up the path before they could stop me. Behind me, I heard Harris speaking into his radio: "We have a problem. The ex-cop is going to be trouble. Handle it."
Handle it.
The same words Marcus had used right before he stabbed me.
I ran harder, my lungs screaming, my legs burning. Had to get somewhere public. Somewhere with witnesses. Somewhere they couldn't make me disappear like they'd made Emma disappear.
I burst onto the main trail and nearly collided with another jogger—a man, tall, expensive running gear, dark hair, moving fast like he owned the path.
"Watch it!" He grabbed my arms to steady me, and I almost punched him on instinct.
Then our eyes met.
He had the darkest eyes I'd ever seen, like pieces of night sky, and they were full of the same barely controlled fury I felt burning in my chest.
"Sorry," I gasped. "I wasn't—"
"You're bleeding." He was looking at my scraped hands. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Accident. I need to go."
His grip tightened slightly. Not threatening. Concerned. "You're Maya Reeves."
My stomach dropped. "How do you know my name?"
"Because my grandmother hired you yesterday. And because you just found my sister's body."
The world tilted.
This was Daniel Chen. Emma's brother. The billionaire tech CEO who supposedly didn't care about anything except money.
Except he did care. I could see it in his eyes—the same desperate need for justice that had destroyed my life in LA. The same refusal to accept comfortable lies.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'm so sorry. She didn't jump. Someone killed her. And the police are covering it up right now."
His hands started shaking. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. When he spoke, his voice was barely controlled. "I know. That's why my grandmother hired you. That's why I'm here." He pulled out his phone. "I was driving to meet you when I got the call that they found Emma. Did you take photos?"
"Yes."
"Send them to this number. Right now. Before they take your phone."
I sent the photos while police sirens wailed below us in the cove.
"They have my brother," I said. "They're using him to control me. To keep me quiet."
"Then we make them regret that choice." Daniel's eyes met mine, and I saw something there that scared me and thrilled me at the same time. "I have unlimited money and resources. You have training and evidence. Together, we're going to destroy everyone who hurt my sister."
"This isn't just about Emma anymore," I said. "This is bigger. Trafficking, corruption, maybe murder. If we start pulling threads—"
"Then we pull until everything unravels." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous. "I don't care who they are. I don't care how powerful they think they are. They killed a seventeen-year-old girl and thought they'd get away with it."
"They'll come after us."
"Let them try."
My phone rang. Chief Harris's number.
Daniel grabbed my hand. "Don't answer. Come with me. Right now."
"Where?"
"Somewhere they can't touch you. Somewhere we can plan how to burn this whole town down."
I looked back down the path. Police officers were climbing up, moving fast, probably coming to confiscate my phone by force.
I looked at Daniel. At this stranger who'd just lost his sister. Who was offering to go to war against the same people who'd destroyed my life once already.
Every smart instinct said run. Disappear. Save myself.
But Emma's face flashed through my mind. Seventeen years old. Dead on the rocks. Defensive wounds on her hands because she'd fought back.
I squeezed Daniel's hand. "Let's go."
We ran together up the trail, leaving the police shouting behind us. And for the first time since Marcus betrayed me, I felt something other than fear.
I felt ready to fight back.