Page 112 of Beneath the Surface

“I am thinking clearly.” Dax’s voice was deadly quiet. “I’m thinking Wheeler took her. I’m thinking he’s had her for—” He checked his watch. Nathan said he’d called around 11:58. “At least an hour. And I’m thinking every second we waste processing a scene is a second he has to hurt her.”

“We have procedures—”

“Fuck procedures.” Dax turned away, his mind racing.Think. Think like a detective. Where would Wheeler take her?

Not his house. Too obvious, too easily searched. He was out on bail with an ankle monitor. He’d be the first suspect.

But Wheeler had people. Employees. Properties. Fronts and shells and layers of deniability.

The auto dealership. Wheeler Auto Sales. That’s where Carson had said the street cameras tracked the SUV heading. East on Riverside toward the warehouse district. Toward Wheeler’s businesses.

Dax pulled out his phone and called dispatch. “This is Detective Mercer, badge 4-7-9-2. I need every street camera and traffic cam feed for Riverside Avenue between Quinn Barrett’saddress and the warehouse district. Time frame 11:30 PM to midnight. Priority one.”

“Copy that, Detective. I’ll have it for you in ten.”

“Make it five.”

Dax hung up and looked at Carson. “I’m going to Wheeler’s dealership. That’s where they took her.”

“You don’t know that—”

“I know Wheeler. I know how he operates. He owns three properties within a two-block radius of that dealership. Shell companies, paper trails, layers of separation.” Dax was already walking toward his truck. “One of those buildings is where he keeps his problems. Where he takes people who need to disappear.”

“Dax, wait—” Carson caught his arm. “You can’t go in there alone. Not without a warrant, not without backup. If you’re wrong, if Wheeler lawyers up—”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll deal with the consequences.” Dax pulled his arm free. “But I’m not wrong. And Quinn doesn’t have time for me to wait for warrants and backup and procedure.”

“At least take me with you.”

Dax paused. Looked at his partner—his friend—and saw the worry and fear there. Saw that Carson understood. That he’d do the same thing if it were someone he loved.

“Call SWAT,” Dax said. “Tell them to mobilize to the warehouse district. But tell them to stage two blocks out. If Wheeler’s people see lights and sirens, they’ll kill her.”

If they haven’t already.

Dax pushed that thought away viciously.

“What are you going to do?” Carson asked.

“Whatever it takes.”

Dax turned and ran for his truck. His phone buzzed as he climbed in. Dispatch.

“Detective Mercer, we’ve got your camera feeds. Tracking a black Chevy Suburban, no plates visible, heading east on Riverside at 11:47 PM. Lost visual at the intersection of Riverside and Industrial. We’ve got nothing after that. No cameras in that area.”

“What buildings are at that intersection?”

“Multiple commercial properties. Give me a second.” The sound of typing followed. “Okay, registered owners include Wheeler Auto Sales, a shell company called Riverside Holdings LLC, and—wait. Riverside Holdings owns a property at 847 Industrial. Former auto body shop, listed as under renovation.”

Riverside Holdings. One of Wheeler’s shells. Dax knew it.

“That’s it.” His voice was hard with certainty. “That’s where they took her.”

“Detective, do you want me to send units—”

“No. No units. Tell SWAT to stage at Riverside and Fifth. No lights, no sirens. Wait for my signal.”

“Sir, I really think—”