“Mercer introduced me.”
Price wrote something.
Adrian asked:
“Anything else?”
Ortega shook his head.
Then stopped.
“Actually.”
Adrian waited.
“Doyle gave Mercer an envelope.”
The internal-affairs lieutenant looked toward him.
“What kind?”
“White business envelope.”
“Did you see inside?”
“No.”
“What did Mercer say?”
Ortega’s face tightened.
“I asked.”
“And?”
“He said tickets to a basketball game.”
“Did he go to a game?”
“I don’t know.”
Adrian nodded.
“Good.”
Ortega frowned.
“Good?”
“Good that you said what you know and stopped where you didn’t.”
That distinction mattered.
The investigation began moving quickly after that.
Warrants arrived by late afternoon.
Mercer’s phone records revealed repeated communication with Patrick Doyle and two Northline Recovery managers.
Financial records took longer.
But a preliminary bank review showed unusual cash deposits.
Small enough individually to avoid attention.
Regular enough to matter.
Hotel logs showed Doyle had used his security credentials to access parking-camera footage before several thefts.
Claire Maddox, the assistant security director who called police that morning, had texted Doyle seconds after Adrian stepped outside.
Bentley owner at car.
Doyle replied:
Call our friend. Keep him busy.
Then Maddox called police.
Dispatch assigned Mercer and Ortega because they were already three blocks away.
Chance.
Perhaps.
Or maybe Mercer had arranged to remain nearby.
Investigators would determine that later.
At 5:40, Adrian received another message.
Northline had moved the Bentley.
He looked up.
“What?”
Price smiled.
“Not yours.”
The government Bentley was still outside the hotel, broken window now covered with temporary plastic.
Another Bentley.
Same model family.
Dark blue.
Owned by a hotel guest.
Northline removed it from a different garage entrance at 5:12.
Agents followed.
The theft network had continued despite the morning disaster.
That told Adrian something important.
The people involved either did not know how much the FBI knew or believed the officer’s encounter was unrelated.
Either possibility was useful.
“Where’s the car?”
“Warehouse on Verner Avenue.”
“Probable cause?”
“Tracker?”
“No.”
“Visual surveillance plus fraudulent tow paperwork confirmed.”
Adrian nodded.
“Do not enter tonight.”
Price stared.
“We have the stolen car.”
“Yes.”
“And the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“And probably multiple others.”
“Yes.”
“Why wait?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Because people go home.”
She understood.
If agents entered immediately, they would seize cars and perhaps arrest warehouse staff.
If they waited, employees, managers, document forgers, and anyone arriving to collect proceeds might expose the larger structure.
The task force watched all night.
At 10:23, Patrick Doyle arrived.
At 11:07, a Northline manager entered.
At 12:41, another man arrived carrying a laptop bag.
At 1:16, Officer Daniel Mercer’s personal pickup turned onto Verner Avenue.
Agents in the surveillance van stopped speaking.
Mercer had been relieved from duty and released after his initial administrative interview.
He was supposed to remain available at home.
Instead, he parked behind the warehouse.
Adrian watched the live feed.
Mercer stepped out.
Looked around.