Alexander looked at them longer than he meant to.
“Something’s wrong,” Marcus said.
Alexander followed his gaze.
A black government SUV had turned onto the street with its headlights off.
It rolled slowly toward Lily’s house.
No plates visible.
No markings.
Marcus’s hand moved toward his phone. “That vehicle is not local patrol.”
The SUV stopped.
A man stepped out.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Confident in the way only protected men were confident.
When he turned beneath the streetlight, Alexander recognized him instantly.
Deputy Chief Daniel Pierce.
The face of Texas law enforcement reform.
The man who gave speeches on television about protecting women and children. The man photographed beside governors, senators, and nonprofit leaders. The man whose department had recently received a major federal grant to combat trafficking and domestic abuse.
Alexander’s blood ran cold.
Pierce walked to Lily’s front door like he owned the night.
He did not knock.
He used a key.
Marcus whispered, “Tell me that is not who I think it is.”
Alexander’s voice dropped. “It is.”
Inside the house, a light flicked on.
A shadow moved behind the thin curtains.
Then came a sound.
Not loud.
Not clear.
But enough.
A child crying.
Alexander opened his door.
Marcus grabbed his arm. “If you go in without a warrant, he walks.”
Alexander stopped.
Every instinct he had told him to break that door down. Every civilized rule told him that if he did, Daniel Pierce would become the victim by morning.
That was how powerful men survived.
They made rage look illegal.
Alexander forced himself back into the SUV.
“Record everything,” he said.
