“Daniel Mercer?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m Detective Mara Ellison, Peoria Police.”
Something in her tone told me she already knew more than she should.
She looked at Briggs.
“Officer, are you prepared to make a statement?”
Briggs gave a weak nod.
Detective Ellison looked back at me.
“You need to come inside.”
“No,” I said. “You need to send units to the old water treatment plant north of campus.”
Her face tightened.
“Who told you that?”
“Briggs.”
She turned toward him.
He nodded again.
For the first time, I saw real urgency break through her professional mask.
She grabbed her radio.
Within minutes, the ambulance bay became chaos.
Officers secured the scene. The two private guards were handcuffed and loaded into separate vehicles. Briggs was taken inside, not arrested yet, but watched closely. Detective Ellison pulled me aside near the rear entrance.
“Mr. Mercer,” she said, “listen to me carefully. Do not go to that plant.”
I almost laughed.
She saw it and stepped closer.
“I mean it. Your daughter needs you here.”
“My daughter needs the truth.”
“And you running into an active crime scene will bury it.”
“Do you know Charles Varrick?” I asked.
Her eyes hardened.
“Everyone knows Charles Varrick.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” she said. “It’s a warning.”
Before I could respond, her radio crackled.
A voice came through, distorted by static.
“Unit Twelve to Ellison. We’re at the north access road. Gate is open. Fresh tire tracks.”
Ellison raised the radio.
“Proceed with caution.”
Static.
Then another voice.
“Building door is unsecured.”
A pause.
Rain hissed around us.
The whole ambulance bay seemed to listen.
Then the radio exploded.
“Body! We have a body!”
My chest tightened.
Ellison closed her eyes briefly.
“Status?”
Static.
“Male. Young. Severe trauma. No pulse.”
I looked away.
Ethan Cole.
A freshman.