Chapter 9: Fractured Patterns

The precinct had always thrived on controlled chaos—phones ringing, officers moving with purpose, cases unraveling and closing within the same walls. But tonight, something felt different. There was an undercurrent of unease, a quiet shift in the air that Nathan couldn't quite place.

Ava sat across from him in the briefing room, her fingers tapping against the desk in an irregular rhythm. The dim light cast sharp angles on her face, highlighting the tension in her jaw. The parchment lay between them, an enigma wrapped in ancient symbols and cryptic warnings.

"We need more than just guesses," she murmured. "This isn't just about a missing CEO anymore. This is something bigger."

Nathan exhaled slowly. "Yeah. And we're in the middle of it."

Leo had stepped out to run another scan on the parchment, but the urgency in his footsteps when he returned told Nathan something was wrong. He was gripping his laptop tightly, his face unusually pale.

"The chip," Leo began, voice low, "it sent out a final pulse before shutting down. But before it did, I traced it." He turned the screen toward them, revealing a single address.

Ava's eyes narrowed. "That's—"

"Dr. Evelyn Cross' lab," Nathan finished, feeling his stomach tighten.

The name sat heavy in the air. Dr. Cross was one of the only people in the world who could decode symbols like these. They had planned to contact her—but now, the signal had led them straight to her. That couldn't be a coincidence.

Nathan grabbed his coat. "We need to move. Now."

---

Dr. Cross' Laboratory – 11:37 PM

The lab sat on the outskirts of the city, tucked between towering office buildings and abandoned warehouses. It was the kind of place designed to go unnoticed—no bright signs, no welcoming entrance, just a simple metal door with a security panel that blinked red.

Nathan parked a block away. They approached cautiously, their footsteps silent against the pavement. Leo was already scanning for any surveillance feeds, his laptop balanced on his arm.

"Security cameras are down," he muttered. "That's either very good or very bad."

Ava tested the door. Locked.

Nathan stepped forward, reaching for his lockpicking set. But before he could even kneel, the door creaked open on its own.

Ava's hand went instinctively to her weapon. "That's not creepy at all."

Nathan pushed the door open fully, revealing the dimly lit interior.

Dr. Cross' lab was a mess. Papers scattered across the floor, monitors frozen mid-process, overturned bookshelves. It looked like a struggle had taken place, but there were no signs of blood, no clear evidence of where she had gone.

Nathan's gut tightened. "She didn't leave willingly."

Leo moved to the nearest computer, typing rapidly. "Most of her files have been wiped. Someone knew exactly what they were looking for."

Ava crouched near the desk, picking up a shattered glass vial. "If this was a kidnapping, it wasn't rushed. They had time to search, time to erase her work." She exhaled sharply. "Which means they knew she had something valuable."

Nathan ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "What if she cracked part of the code?"

Ava's eyes snapped to his. "And they took her before she could share it."

Leo let out a sharp breath. "Guys, I found something."

They crowded around the screen. It was an encrypted message, buried deep in the system. Most of the data was gone, but one fragment remained intact—a set of coordinates.

Nathan studied the numbers. "This is… outside the city. Near the old trainyard."

Ava straightened. "That place has been abandoned for years."

"Or so we thought," Leo said grimly. "This isn't just a random location. It's where Dr. Cross' last signal came from—just minutes before we got here."

Nathan's pulse quickened. They had a lead, but it also meant something else.

Whoever had taken Dr. Cross was still moving.

And they were running out of time.