Chapter 9 - The Smelter
The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the desert in blood-red hues. The roar of a V8 engine echoed through the canyon. An unmarked black SUV pulled into the dirt lot of the smelting plant.
Captain Miller stepped out, a tactical shotgun resting casually in the crook of his arm. Behind him, to Marcus's surprise, Brenda Carmichael emerged, clutching her designer purse, looking terrifyingly out of place in the industrial ruin.
"Vance!" Miller's voice echoed in the cavernous building. "Come on out, Marcus! Let's handle this like men."
Marcus stepped from behind a rusted turbine, his hands empty, held out to his sides. "You brought a civilian to a hit, Elias? That's sloppy."
"Brenda wanted to see you grovel," Miller sneered, walking closer. "She didn't appreciate you breaking her lock. Show me the photo."
"You know I have it," Marcus said, projecting his voice so the hidden mics would pick it up perfectly. "Laundering cartel money through an HOA. Using a neighborhood watch to run security for cash drops. How much did Garza pay you to sell out your own badge?"
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"Enough to retire in a country that doesn't have an extradition treaty," Miller laughed, raising the shotgun. "You were always too rigid, Marcus. You couldn't just look the other way. Now you and that sickly kid of yours are going to disappear."
Brenda smiled coldly. "I told you, Marcus. He remains restrained until the committee decides. And we've decided."
