Brian didn't sleep.
Not after the dinner incident report came in from patrol—unrelated, minor—just noise in the system. But noise was enough to keep him awake.
Because somewhere in the quiet between midnight and dawn, Sarah was still out there.
And if he was right—
She wasn't just missing.
She was being held.
And possibly by someone wearing the same badge he did.
He sat at his kitchen table with his laptop open, the department access portal logged in under secure credentials.
The background request he'd submitted had processed.
Partially.
Carbondale PD disciplinary archive — restricted.
Access level: supervisory clearance required.
He stared at the screen.
He could stop here.
Go to the Captain.
Raise concern.
Let Internal Affairs take over.
But if he was wrong?
He would destroy a man's career on suspicion.
If he was right?
And Jack caught wind of it—
Sarah could die.
Brian exhaled slowly.
He needed more.
He reached out to an old academy contact now working in state records compliance.
Off the record.
No written request.
Just conversation.
The call connected.
"Dawson?"
"I need a favor."
Two hours later, he had fragments.
Not full files.
Not certified copies.
But enough to unsettle him.
Jack Davis — Internal Review Notes — Carbondale PD.
Three separate complaints.
Two cases involving excessive force during domestic disturbances.
One involving physical aggression toward a female witness.
All marked:
Insufficient evidence.
Unsubstantiated.
Closed.
Brian's jaw tightened.
He dug deeper.
Cross-state personnel background.
Jack had worked briefly in Indiana before Carbondale.
And before that—
Tennessee.
Each time:
Short tenure.
Transfer.
No formal termination.
But in Tennessee—
There was a sealed complaint tied to "conduct unbecoming."
Details restricted.
Brian leaned back in his chair.
Patterns.
Short stays.
Escalations.
Transfer before formal action.
He opened the Johnson file again.
Sarah Johnson.
Age 22.
Carbondale resident.
Relationship with "Jay" approximately two years ago.
Jack transferred from Carbondale shortly after.
His pulse began to pound heavier.
Coincidence was starting to look less likely.
Still—
Nothing tied Jack directly to the alias Jay.
No documented link.
No official complaint.
No confirmed identity.
Just smoke.
And smoke wasn't enough to bring to the Chief.
Not yet.
At the station later that morning, Brian moved carefully.
Normal routine.
Paperwork.
Briefings.
Jack worked the domestic case across the room, laughing lightly with another officer.
Calm.
Steady.
Controlled.
You'd never see it.
You'd never suspect it.
That was what made men like him dangerous.
Brian returned to his office and shut the door.
He pulled up the internal access logs again.
Sarah's number.
Accessed through the system.
He checked timestamp alignment against duty schedules.
The system only showed the user ID—still masked behind clearance.
He would need supervisory authorization to unmask it.
And requesting that would create a record.
A record, Jack could see if he monitored internal queries.
Brian leaned forward, fingers pressed against his lips.
If he went to the Captain too soon—
Jack could panic.
If Jack panicked—
Sarah could pay for it.
He couldn't risk triggering him.
Not until he knew exactly where she was.
His phone buzzed.
Molly.
He stepped outside to answer.
"Hi."
Her voice sounded thin.
"Did you sleep?" he asked.
"A little."
He hesitated.
"I've been looking into Jack's background."
Silence.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
"Because you noticed something."
Her breath caught slightly.
"And?"
"I can't say anything definitive."
"Brian."
"There were complaints," he said carefully. "Old ones. Nothing that stuck."
Her voice trembled.
"What kind of complaints?"
"Excessive force."
"With women?"
A beat of silence.
"Yes."
She inhaled sharply.
"I knew something felt wrong."
He leaned against the brick wall outside the station.
"Molly, listen to me carefully."
"Okay."
"You do not confront him. You do not hint at suspicion. You do not return to Branson without telling me."
"I wasn't going to confront him."
"I need you to promise."
She hesitated.
"I promise."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"I'm building something," he said quietly. "But this is sensitive. If I move too fast and I'm wrong—"
"You lose everything."
"Yes."
"And if you're right?"
He looked out at the parking lot.
"Then we're dealing with something very dangerous."
That afternoon, Brian accessed multi-state certification records.
He requested a review history under the officer transfer protocol.
Most officers carried clean interdepartmental reviews.
Jack's file was... thin.
Too thin.
Minimal commentary.
No strong recommendations.
No extended tenure.
In Tennessee, the comment field read:
"Voluntary separation following internal review."
That phrase made his stomach tighten.
Internal review for what?
He made another quiet call.
Another favor.
A retired supervisor from Tennessee agreed to speak unofficially.
"What can you tell me about Davis?" Brian asked.
A pause.
"He had a temper."
"Anything else?"
"Complaints from women. Never enough to stick. Always just shy of provable."
Brian's jaw tightened.
"Did he leave before discipline?"
"Yes."
The word landed heavily.
"Why are you asking?"
"Working a case."
"Be careful," the man said quietly. "Guys like that don't implode. They escalate."
Escalate.
The same word Jack had used earlier that week.
Brian hung up slowly.
Back inside, he stared at the growing folder on his encrypted drive.
Carbondale complaints.
Indiana tenure.
Tennessee internal review.
Access log anomaly.
Sarah's threats referenced "access."
It was building.
But it wasn't enough.
He needed one of two things:
A confirmed alias link between Jay and Jack.
Or Sarah's location.
Without that—
He risked tipping off a potentially violent officer.
And if Jack realized he was being investigated—
There was no telling what he would do.
Late that night, Brian sat alone in his office.
The lights dimmed.
Most of the department is gone.
He opened Sarah's case file again.
Studied her photo.
Smiling.
Unaware.
Alive.
"I'm not letting him hurt you," he muttered quietly.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Molly.
I keep thinking about her being alone.
He typed back:
She's stronger than you think.
He hoped it was true.
Because if Jack's history told him anything—
He wasn't just obsessive.
He was volatile.
And volatility, when cornered—
Exploded.
Brian shut down his computer and locked the flash drive inside his desk.
Tomorrow, he would begin drafting a formal preliminary report.
Not an accusation.
Not yet.
Just documented concern.
If he went to the Captain—
He needed to walk in with fire, not smoke.
And until he was certain—
He would move like a shadow.
Because one wrong step—
And Sarah Johnson might not survive it.