Page 33 of Lost Hope

This wasn’t just her father’s home. It was a message, carefully crafted and waiting just for them.

She moved to her father’s reading chair, noting the angle. Wrong. He was meticulous about keeping it positioned foroptimal light. Lawrence Chen might be a maverick when it came to his job, but in his personal life, the man was as OCD as it got. Everything in its place. Always. “He knew they were coming.”

Christian paused his sweep. “How can you tell?”

“Everything’s slightly off.” She gestured to the military biography on the side table. “This book isn’t straight. Dad always lines things up.” Her eyes tracked across the room. “Coffee cup left out—he never does that. And his reading glasses ...”

She moved to his desk, mind clicking through the evidence. “His backup weapon’s gone. So is his go-bag—he keeps it in the bottom drawer.” A detective’s habits, passed down to his daughter. “But he left his phone.” Something they could track.

“How long?” Jack asked.

“Hours. Maybe less.” She touched the coffee cup. “Still has a ring of moisture under it.”

He would have left more clues. She crossed to his closet. “His old patrolman uniform is gone.” She pointed to the garment bag hook, conspicuously empty. “And his medal case is shifted.” Moving to the case, she carefully lifted it. A business card lay beneath—Phil’s Boat Service. Something he knew she’d check if she’d read his other clues right. “He’s not running scared. He’s hunting.”

The tactical teams exchanged looks. This wasn’t their world—stakeouts and informant networks, piecing together clues from displaced objects and deliberate signs.

“Your father’s good,” Jack said quietly.

“The best.” Pride mixed with fear in her chest. “And he just laid out a trail of breadcrumbs. Question is—for us, or for them?”

“Direction?” Christian pressed.

For the first time since the pursuit began, Maya felt solid ground under her feet. This she understood. “He’ll start withhis old CI network. There’s a diner in Venice ...” She stopped, detective’s instincts screaming. “No. That’s too obvious.”

She scanned the room again, seeing it through her father’s eyes. Career police officer. Master investigator. Man who’d taught her to read a scene.

“Multiple vehicles approaching,” Star’s voice crackled through comms. “Professional formation. Time to go.”

“Copy.” Jack’s response was instant. “Alpha team, cover our exit. Beta team?—”

“Windows,” Ronan cut in. “They’ll have the stairs and elevator covered.”

“Bingo.” His brother responded instantly. “Abort.”

The night erupted into motion. Maya caught glimpses of Christian’s team emerging fast but controlled, just as unmarked sedans began sliding out of side streets.

“Company,” Austin announced. “Multiple vehicles, tactical approach pattern.”

“Run.” Christian’s command galvanized them into action.

Maya sprinted for the lead SUV, Ronan right behind her, Axel already yanking open the rear door. She dove in as Austin gunned the engine.

“Four vehicles in pursuit,” Star reported from Hope Landing. “Taking you off main streets. Right at the next corner, then immediate left into the alley.”

Maya grabbed the overhead handle as Austin took the turn at speed. In the darkness behind them, engines roared.

“They’re not law enforcement,” Ronan said grimly. “They’re too good.”

Her heart hammered against her ribs. They’d been too late to save her father … and now maybe even themselves.

“Second vehicle, maintain parallel course,” Jack ordered through comms. “We’ll split their focus.”

Streetlights strobed in her eyes as Austin threaded through Marina Del Rey’s back streets. Each turn brought them deeper into the maze of storage facilities and boat repair shops.

“LAPD units responding to calls about suspicious vehicles,” Star reported. “Austin, hang right at the marina. Christian’s team will draw the pursuit north.”

Maya’s stomach lurched as Austin swung the SUV around a corner, tires screaming. Behind them, two of the pursuit vehicles peeled off after Christian’s team.

---