Chapter 2 - The Alley on Grand River
The neon red sign of the 24-hour pharmacy flickered against the heavy downpour, casting long, bloody reflections across the slick asphalt of Grand River Avenue.
Rachel pulled her cruiser into the parking lot, her tires splashing through deep puddles. She didn't turn on her siren; she killed her headlights fifty yards away, letting her car coast silently into the shadow of a large industrial dumpster.
She unclipped the safety strap on her holster, pulled her heavy flashlight from her duty belt, and stepped out into the rain.
The air smelled of wet asphalt, diesel exhaust, and rotten garbage. The pharmacy was quiet, with a tired-looking clerk sitting behind the glass register inside, staring at his phone.
Rachel walked along the brick side wall of the building, keeping her back flush against the wet masonry. Her boots made no sound against the pavement. She reached the edge of the alley—a narrow, dead-end corridor lined with rusted metal doors, overflowing cardboard recycling bins, and a chain-link fence at the far end.
She clicked her flashlight on, sweeping the narrow beam along the ground.
"Detroit PD," she called out, her voice echoing off the brick walls. "Is anyone down here?"
Only the sound of water rushing through a clogged storm drain answered her.
Rachel stepped deeper into the alley. Her flashlight beam swept across a puddle near a stack of wooden pallets.
Something gleamed in the dirty water.
Rachel dropped to one knee, keeping her eyes scanning the dark corners of the alley. She reached down and pulled a small plastic object from the mud.
It was a brand-new, unopened bottle of pediatric Amoxicillin.
Beside it, pressed into the soft dirt near the brick wall, was a single slip-on shoe—a worn white sneaker with a pink lace, size six.
"She made it out of the store," Rachel whispered to herself, her chest tightening. "She had the medicine in her hand."
Rachel shone her light higher up the wall. Scuff marks on the brick indicated a struggle. A few inches away, smeared against the rough mortar, was a faint streak of fresh blood.
"Unit 412 to Dispatch," Rachel said into her mic, her voice tense. "I’ve located Maya Vance’s personal items in the alley behind the Grand River pharmacy. Evidence of an abduction. Fresh blood on the wall and her son’s prescription dropped on the ground. Requesting Crime Scene Investigation and a K-9 unit to my location immediately."
"Copy, 412," Marcus answered from the dispatch station. "CSI is en route. Rachel... I just pulled the registered address for St. Clair Recovery Services. It’s a shell corporation registered to a commercial garage on the east side—near the old auto plant on Lynch Road. The primary owner listed on the business filings is a man named Victor Vance—Julian Vance’s older brother."
"The brother," Rachel said, stepping over a puddle to examine a set of fresh, deep tire tracks leading out of the alley toward 14th Street. "Julian couldn't legally get close to her because of his parole conditions, so he sent his brother's muscle to grab her."
"It gets worse," Marcus said, the sound of keys clicking furiously in the background. "I’m monitoring the social media feed from that local blogger who filmed the apartment earlier. He’s live right now outside the 4th Precinct, claiming police are covering up a case of child neglect. The internet crowd is getting ugly, Rachel. They're surrounding the precinct doors demanding the mother be arrested if she shows up."
"Let them scream," Rachel growled, stepping out of the alley back toward her cruiser. "When we find Maya, those internet judge-and-juries are going to eat every single word they typed. Marcus, ping the cellular signal on Victor Vance's registered business lines. Where is that black Charger right now?"
"Pinging now..." Marcus paused. "Signal acquired. The phone associated with St. Clair Recovery just hit a cell tower on Lynch Road. It’s stationary."
"I'm ten minutes away," Rachel said, jumping into her car and turning the ignition. "Tell K-9 to re-route straight to Lynch Road."
"Rachel, wait for the K-9 unit!" Marcus shouted through the earbud. "Victor Vance has two prior convictions for assault with a deadly weapon! He runs a crew of illegal repo men and enforcers out of that garage!"
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Rachel slammed the cruiser into drive, her tires spinning on the wet asphalt as she pulled out onto the avenue.
"I’m not giving them time to move her, Marcus," Rachel said, her voice deathly calm. "Lily promised her brother that their mother always comes home. I’m not going to let that little girl be a liar."
