Special Agent Wayne's Pov
The phone on Daniel Wayne's nightstand buzzed with a shrill ring that tore through the silence of his dark apartment. He sat up slowly, the dim city lights bleeding through the blinds and cutting across his bare walls.
Wayne rubbed his eyes, answering with a gravelly, "Wayne speaking."
The voice on the other end was sharp, broken and dripping with fury.
"She's dead, Daniel."
Wayne froze. "General Pierce?"
"My daughter." Pierce's tone cracked. "She was murdered last night. And I..." He stopped, sucking in a jagged breath.
Wayne leaned back against his headboard, silent. He had seen enough grieving fathers in his line of work to recognize one thing: Pierce wasn't just broken. He was angry. And anger, Wayne knew, was always weaponized.
"You've been circling around that Grant girl." Pierce pressed. "I need you to stop. Stop chasing her and start finding who killed Gabriella."
Wayne narrowed his eyes. "General, that's… not my jurisdiction. I'm an AFOSI agent, not a private investigator. Murder cases run through city detectives, not federal branches of the Air Force."
"I don't care." Pierce's voice grew harsh, spitting the words out like poison. "I want you go to the Captain of the NYPD. You tell him you're taking over. You're not just investigating anymore, you're following my order. Do you hear me, Wayne? An order."
Wayne's jaw tightened. "Sir, with all due respect, this is beyond me."
"Goddammit, Wayne!" Pierce barked, the fury rattling through the receiver. "Don't you dare tell me how this works. I am not asking you, I am telling you. Gabriella is dead because of me. And I want you to find who did this."
Wayne stared into the darkness of his apartment, lips pressed in a thin line.
Finally, he muttered, "Alright. I'll look into it."
By the time the sun scraped the horizon, Wayne was already walking through the sliding glass doors of the precinct. Officers shuffled back and forth with files and evidence bags.
Captain Harris was in his office, sleeves rolled up, cigarette smoke curling near the ceiling fan. When Wayne stepped in, Harris looked up with a frown.
"Special Agent Wayne." the Captain said flatly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Wayne shut the door behind him. "The Hamilton estate murders. One of the victims was General Pierce's daughter."
Harris leaned back, exhaling a long stream of smoke. "So I've heard, my finest detective is already on it."
"Not anymore." Wayne set his hands on the Captain's desk. "Pierce himself contacted me and he wants AFOSI to take jurisdiction."
Harris raised a brow. "You serious?"
"Yes" Wayne replied.
For a long moment, Harris just studied him. Then he sighed, tapping ash into the tray. "Fine, let's not cause a pissing contest. Carter won't like it but I'll make it clear."
Minutes later, Carter and Lopez were called into the Captain's office. Carter entered first, suspicion already etched into his features. Lopez followed, carrying her notepad, eyes flicking curiously toward the stranger in the corner.
"Detective Carter and Detective Lopez." Harris said, gesturing to the man beside his desk. "This is Special Agent Daniel Wayne, Air Force Office of Special Investigations. All matters concerning the Hamilton case will be under his jurisdiction, effective immediately. Hand over everything to him."
Carter's brows knitted, his voice clipped. "With all due respect, Captain, Mrs. Hamilton wasn't Air Force. She was a civilian, which means this case fall under our jurisdiction."
Wayne's eyes, sharp and unreadable, locked on Carter. "And with all due respect, Detective, I've been given a direct message from her father, the General. He doesn't want local law fumbling around with his daughter's murder."
Carter crossed his arms. "That's not protocol."
Wayne's lips curved in a humorless smirk. "This is over your pay grade, Detective."
Harris cleared his throat, cutting through the tension. "Detective, the decision's made. Hand it over, that's an order."
Lopez glanced uneasily between Carter and Wayne. Carter's jaw ticked, his pride bruised but he finally slid a folder across the desk.
Wayne collected the folder smoothly, his expression unreadable.
Outside, the morning sun was glaring off the hood of his government sedan. Wayne slid into the driver's seat, the folder resting on the passenger side.
He flipped it open. Photos of the Hamilton estate murders stared back at him... Gabriella's lifeless eyes. He scanned the coroner's report, the evidence logs, Carter's neatly written notes.
Then he saw the surveillance still. Brooklyn Grant. Her face half-lit by the hallway camera, walking out of Gabriella's room like a shadow.
Wayne's mouth curved slightly, though it wasn't a smile. He pulled out his phone and dialed.
On the second ring, Pierce answered. "Wayne?"
"I've got the case." Wayne said. "Meet me now. We need to talk."
Pierce's reply was immediate, raw with urgency. "Where?"
Wayne glanced at the photograph of Brooklyn Grant again, his thumb pressing hard against her frozen face.
"Someplace quiet." Wayne muttered.
He ended the call, tossed the phone onto the dash and started the steering wheel. The rumble of the engine filled the silence but his mind was already three steps ahead.