Blackout Protocol

Chapter Three

Sarah stood in the observation room, watching Marcus through the two-way glass. He sat perfectly still, hands bagged, eyes fixed on nothing. She'd seen suspects break down in interrogation rooms. Seen them rage, cry, confess, lie. Marcus just sat there like a statue waiting to crumble.

"He's cooked." Detective Walker appeared beside her, coffee in hand. "GSR, blood spatter, his own 911 call. DA's gonna have a field day."

"He called it in himself," Sarah said quietly.

"Yeah, because he knew we'd find him anyway. Pier Street has cameras on every corner. He was trying to get ahead of it."

Sarah didn't respond. She was watching Marcus's hands. The way they kept flexing inside the evidence bags, like he was testing whether they still belonged to him.

"Chen." Walker's voice dropped. "I know you two have history. But you can't let that cloud your judgment here. The evidence is what it is."

"I'm aware of what the evidence says."

"Are you? Because Morrison told me you were first on scene. That you talked to Kane alone for almost five minutes before we processed him. Defense could argue contamination, coaching—"

"I did my job."

"Did you? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're trying to find a way to save him." Walker set down his coffee. "Kane killed a guy. Period. And if you try to muddy the waters, you're gonna drown right alongside him."

Sarah turned to face him fully. "Detective Walker. When was the last time you worked a homicide where the suspect called it in himself, waited for arrest, and immediately requested counsel?"

"That's not…."

"When was the last time you saw a decorated detective with zero violent incidents in twelve years suddenly execute a Viper enforcer with military precision?"

Walker hesitated. "People snap."

"Not like this, they don't." Sarah looked back through the glass. "Something's wrong here. I don't know what yet. But I know Marcus Kane, and the man in that room isn't the man I've known for ten years."

The door opened. Captain Devereaux entered, his presence filling the small observation room. Walker straightened immediately. Sarah held her ground.

"Detective Chen." Devereaux's voice was neutral, carefully controlled. "A word. Privately."

Walker took the hint and left. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Sarah waited.

Devereaux stood beside her, both of them watching Marcus through the glass. "How's he holding up?"

"What do you think?"

"I think he's in shock. Traumatized. Probably going to need a serious psychiatric evaluation." Devereaux clasped his hands behind his back. "The DA is pushing for Murder One. Premeditation. They're saying Kane went there specifically to kill Reyes."

"On what basis?"

"The message on his phone. Confirmation of target neutralization sent to an unknown number. They're arguing it proves planning, coordination."

Sarah's stomach dropped. "That's ridiculous. Marcus isn't a contract killer."

"Then explain the message."

"I can't. Yet." Sarah turned to face Devereaux. "Captain, I need to be on this case."

"Absolutely not."

"Sir….."

"You're too close. IAB is already asking questions about your relationship with Kane, your presence at the scene. If you stay involved, you compromise the entire investigation."

"Then let me compromise it. Because something isn't adding up and you know it."

Devereaux's eyes hardened. "What I know is that one of my detectives killed a man and you're looking for excuses instead of evidence. That's not how this works, Chen."

"I'm looking for the truth."

"The truth is in that room, covered in Miguel Reyes's blood." Devereaux moved toward the door. "You're off this case. Effective immediately. Go home. Get some sleep. And Detective? Stay away from Kane. That's not a suggestion."

He left before Sarah could argue.

She stood alone in the observation room, watching Marcus. He'd moved now, leaning forward with his head in his bagged hands. The posture of a man carrying weight too heavy to bear.

Her phone buzzed. Text from an unknown number: ‘Underground parking. Level 3. Five minutes. Come alone.’

Sarah stared at the message. Every instinct screamed trap. But someone wanted to talk to her away from the station, away from cameras and witnesses.

She looked through the glass one more time. Marcus hadn't moved.

Sarah made her decision and headed for the stairs.

---

The parking garage smelled like oil and exhaust. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows that moved when nothing else did. Sarah's hand rested on her weapon as she descended to Level 3.

A figure waited by a concrete pillar. Tall, lean, wearing a baseball cap pulled low.

"Detective Chen." A woman's voice. Familiar somehow.

Sarah stopped ten feet away. "Who are you?"

The woman stepped forward. Mid-thirties, sharp features, dark hair tucked under the cap. She wore scrubs, like she'd just come from a hospital shift. But her eyes were terrified.

"My name is Dr. Rachel Moss. I'm a detective with the 9th Precinct. And I need you to listen very carefully because we don't have much time."

Sarah's hand tightened on her weapon. "What are you talking about?"

"Marcus Kane isn't the only one." Moss glanced over her shoulder like she expected someone to appear. "There are others. Twelve of us total. All cops. All treated at Meridian Institute. All experiencing the same thing."

"The same what?"

"Lost time. Blackouts. Memories that don't belong to us." Moss pulled something from her pocket. A phone. She held it up so Sarah could see the screen. A text message: TARGET ACQUIRED. PROTOCOL ENGAGED. "I found this on my phone three weeks ago. I didn't send it. But it came from my number. And the next morning, there was a body in Lincoln Park. Throat slashed. No witnesses."

Sarah's blood ran cold. "You think you killed someone."

"I know I did. I just don't remember doing it." Moss lowered the phone. "And neither does Marcus. Because we're not in control when it happens. Something else is. Someone else."

"That's impossible."

"Is it? You've seen the evidence. You've talked to Marcus. Does he seem like a man who planned a murder? Or does he seem like a man who's had something done to him?"

Sarah's mind was racing. If what Moss was saying was true, if there were twelve cops all experiencing the same thing, then this wasn't about Marcus snapping. This was organized. Coordinated.

"Why come to me?"

"Because Marcus trusts you. And because you're the only one asking the right questions." Moss glanced over her shoulder again. Footsteps echoed from the level above. "I have to go. But Detective Chen, you need to get Marcus out. Because in six hours, there's going to be another one. Another murder. Another cop losing an hour. And when the pattern becomes clear, they're going to kill all of us to cover it up."

"Wait…."

But Moss was already moving, disappearing into the shadows between parked cars.

Sarah pulled out her phone and typed: ‘Who's the next target?’

Three dots appeared. Then: ‘Dr. Raymond Foster. 2247 Oakwood Drive. 6:47 PM.’

One more message: ‘Don't trust Devereaux.’

The number went dead.

Sarah stood in the parking garage, mind spinning. Twelve cops. Twelve programmed killers.

She had six hours to stop the next murder.

And she had no idea how.