So was the city sedan.

So was the second officer holding a black magnetic case.

Most importantly, the final two seconds showed Rourke kneeling beside the vehicle later seized in the narcotics case.

Elena immediately copied the file to multiple locations.

Rourke watched her.

“An unclear video of me standing beside a suspect’s vehicle proves nothing about this case.”

“It proves enough to make tonight interesting,” Elena replied.

Two state investigators arrived minutes later.

Rourke objected loudly.

The senior investigator, Captain Miriam Shaw, did not seem impressed.

“We received an allegation of evidence tampering involving municipal officers.

Until we establish chain of custody, nobody moves the recovered property.”

Dominic noticed something then.

Rourke wore a body camera.

Its status light was dark.

“Your camera isn’t recording,” Dominic said.

Rourke looked down.

“Battery failure.”

Captain Shaw’s eyes followed his hand.

“Don’t touch it.”

The rain seemed louder suddenly.

Ivy pulled Elena’s sleeve.

“There’s something else.”

She explained that Rourke’s partner had entered her mother’s shop the previous afternoon and asked whether their security cameras worked.

“Which partner?” Captain Shaw asked.

Ivy pointed toward Officer Caleb Dunn.

Dunn went pale.

Rourke’s head turned slowly toward him.

“Officer Dunn,” Shaw said, “remain where you are.”

Dunn stared at the pistol on the hood.

His breathing changed.

“I didn’t know about the gun.”

Rourke’s voice snapped across the sidewalk.

“Stop talking.”

That command destroyed whatever remained of Dunn’s composure.

“You said they were trackers,” he told Rourke.

“You said we were documenting movements and building cases.

You never said you were planting weapons.”

Captain Shaw warned Dunn that he should request counsel.

Dunn kept staring at the case.

“Gabriel wasn’t supposed to die either.”

Dominic felt the words in his chest.

Rourke moved toward Dunn.

Two state investigators stepped between them.

“What happened to Gabriel Mora?” Shaw asked.

Dunn covered his face for several seconds.

Then he lowered his hands.

“Warehouse Seventeen.”

Dominic froze.

Warehouse Seventeen belonged to Vale Harbor Logistics.

It had been closed for structural repairs for nearly two months.

“What about it?” Elena asked.

Dunn looked at Dominic.

“Mora was investigating port inspection contracts.

He found payments going to shell vendors.

He thought Mr.

Vale was behind them.”

“I wasn’t,” Dominic said.

“I know that now.”

Rourke laughed bitterly.

“This is absurd.”

Dunn ignored him.

Gabriel Mora had discovered that several fake maintenance firms were billing the city and port authority for work never completed.

Those companies funneled part of the money to Rourke through intermediaries.

Rourke used his position to make investigations disappear.

When Mora got too close, Rourke arranged to meet him at Warehouse Seventeen, knowing the building was vacant.

According to Dunn, the plan had been intimidation.

It became something else.

“They argued,” Dunn said.

“Mora said he had copies of everything.

He told Rourke he was going to the attorney general in the morning.

Rourke hit him.

Mora fell against a metal stair rail.”

Nobody interrupted.

“Was he alive?” Shaw asked.

Dunn nodded miserably.

“For a while.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened.

“And you didn’t call an ambulance.”

Dunn looked down.

“Rourke said if we called one, everything was over.”

“So what did you do?”

Dunn’s answer was barely audible.

“We moved him.”

Rourke suddenly lunged toward Dunn.

State investigators grabbed him before he made contact.

For the first