With stiff fingers, Connor rolled the business card over and over. Thoughtfully he continued to stare at the sign advertising Bob's Billiards and Beer! Half of the fluorescent lights were flickering unevenly while another third were completely out. The remaining lights buzzed loud and strong, itching to irritate passers-by. No more irritating than the harsh wind which bit and screamed at anyone stupid enough to be out on a night like this.

A particularly strong gust forced the card from his fingers and - startled - he made to catch it with his uncooperative fingers. He shuffled down the street after the small piece of paper until it caught against a sign - no. On the ground, leaning back against the sign was a small child, one hand holding the card back out to Connor.

"Th-thank you." Connor chattered, snatching the card and turning his back to the pasty boy.

Without a backwards glance, Connor shuffled inside the bar. The sound of the door shutting helped him relax, the ghosts could stay outside in the cold. Connor was there for a reason, one he intended to follow through on.

He slipped into a booth, nodding at a waitress who caught his eye. A few moments after he was settled, the woman sashayed over with a menu and pad of paper. "What can I get you?"

"Whiskey sour, please." He tap-tapped the table.

"I don't suppose you have an ID to show me, young man?" She purred, leaning against the table.

He huffed a laugh. "I don't suppose many do."

She pouted her lips. "Aw doll. The name's Georgia, the least you could do is tell me yours."

Connor cracked his neck and leaned back in the booth. Side-eying the waitress he quirked his lips in reply. "It's Connor. I'll take that drink now."

Georgia laughed and headed to the bar to place his order, moving on to make eyes at the bartender.

Connor leaned back and closed his eyes. The sound of the bar rolled over him and he sighed as he heard friends laughing far off to his right. He opened his eyes again and tilted his head in the direction of their voices. A group of three men were playing a game of pool, two were laughing at the third who was trying to do some strange trick shot and clearly playing up on the position. Connor continued watching the group until Georgia returned with his drink.

"There you go, doll." She patted his shoulder and gave him a small smile. "Let me know if you need anything else."

Connor nodded and watched her walk away. His fingers tapped the table again.

A person fell into the booth across from him and he woke from the doze he'd fallen into. The drink before him emptied and replaced by Georgia, the tell-tale scrawl of a phone number on a card beneath the cup had a ring of condensation. Across, the contact was holding a beer in their hand and staring at him.

"Have a nice nap?" They drawled, taking a mouthful of beer. Connor watched beer drip out of the corner of their mouth to their lap below. His eyes raised back to their's and nodded in reply. "Good. I hear you're a 'reformed' man." They snorted and Connor felt wetness on his own face. They threw back the beer and wiped their face roughly.

The beer thumped the table and made a high shtingg when they shoved it away and against the pepper shaker.

"You can call me Todd."

"Connor." He plucked his whiskey sour from the table and took a sip, then placed the drink out of Todd's spraying range. "I hear you're looking for a few hands?"

"Well more than a few, but for now yours will do." Todd positively leered at Connor, his eyes raking Connor's chest and up.

Connor's skin prickled and he felt a desperate need to call for Georgia. Sadly the waitress was nowhere in sight. "How may I help?" He bit out, attempting to keep his revulsion at a minimum.

"There will be a transport of goods on the fifteenth. I'll need a distraction to keep eyes away from a certain vehicle on a certain street."

Connor nodded. "What type of distraction?"

"I don't care." Todd raked Connor's chest again. "Anything to keep the men in blue off my ass. I'm sure you can think of something."

Connor barely kept himself from shuddering. "I assume the area is usually crawling with them - if you want the distraction in the same area."

"Well, if you think you're up for it, then I'll give you the details. Otherwise…" He shifted his gaze to Georgia, leaning against the bar and chatting with the 'tender.

Connor jolted in his seat. His stomach roiled and he felt sick. "Huh. Well there won't be any need for that. Lay it on me."

Todd burped loudly and gestured to Georgia who walked back, the swing in her step muted as she gave Todd a wary look. "Another Budweiser for me and" he glanced at Connor.

"No need." Connor held his hand up and slid his drink back over. "I am set. Thank you." The last phrase he glanced Georgia's way and she nodded, with a small smile.

"I will be right back, Sir."

Todd leaned forward, resting his chin on folded hands. "The transport will occur next Tuesday, on the Northern Boulevard. We unfortunately, must pass through the 23rd precinct's jurisdiction, since the main bypass is closed for construction. There has been chatter on the police radio about possible raids in the future. We don't want to be part of that likely raid, hence the movement at an inconvenient time."

Connor nodded his understanding. "So the distraction will have to be very large and potentially what they're looking for? Something that gets enough attention to warrant potentially half the precinct investigating and limiting their traffic control."

"Exactly! I look forward to seeing as few boys in blue as possible." Todd took a chug of the drink Georgia had delivered in the midst of his spiel. "Until then." He smirked and his eyes wandered to Georgia serving others.

Connor followed his look and made a decision. "Well if you'll excuse me." He threw back his own drink before making his way over to the server. "Georgia." The woman spun and met him with a smile. "When do you get out of work?"

"Oh?" She checked her watch. "Another two hours. Then I'm free. Why?"

"My companion." At this her expression fell. "He's not the kind sort and I don't want him to bother you. Do you have anyone who can come pick you up? A roommate or brother, maybe?"

"Oh!" She glanced over his shoulder at Todd, no doubt leering at the two. "I know his type. I thought at first- well no matter. I have pepper spray. I can defend myself." She squared her shoulders grinned at Connor. "Although, I wouldn't mind you walking me home."

"I just may have to." Connor agreed. "Where can I wait?"

"O-oh." She stuttered. Her eyebrows rose in response. "You- you'd actually do that?"

"Of course." He nodded. "I know the streets. He's no good and will also wait. You've been very kind. It would be rude of me to leave you to his intentions."

"Well!" She seemed to gather herself back up again. "As well as you should! Here," she began to lead him to a stool beside the bar. "This is the best place to see everyone in the bar. I'll let Josh know why you're here." Once she made sure he was all settled, with a glass of water and plate of French fries.

"Honestly." He heard her mutter. "Who would have expected an honest-to-god gentleman in this place?"

He laughed quietly and then went back to observing Todd. The man was interesting, aside from the obvious slob behavior.

Todd observed Connor from where Connor left him at the booth - ah. He was waiting for a malicious and notably gross behavior that would align him as a "friend" of the man. Connor shuddered. He caught Georgia's eye then raised his arm to gesture her over, making it obvious enough that Todd could see.

"You okay, Connor?" She asked, smiling as she drew nearer.

He gave a fake smile and raised his arm in invitation. "Regrettably, I must put on a show. I do not intend to use you, so I'd like to ask your permission to pretend." He spat the word out, keeping the expression of a smirk on his face. "Could you pretend I am the perfect man for you? I need the man who came in to meet me, to believe I am on his side."

Georgia gave him a once-over. She stretched and cast an eye at the man leering at the both of them. "Connor, even if that man weren't here, I wouldn't mind. I'm happy for your honesty. You'd be a catch for any girl, especially one as ordinary as me, in this bar."

"Thank you." He whispered, then grabbed her waist and settled her on his knee. HIs arms wrapped around her chest and he hugged her tight, head resting on her shoulder and mouth pressed against her neck. "If at any point you become uncomfortable, let me know and I'll let you go immediately."

Georgia settled against him, head rested against his own. "Honey, I don't think you need to worry. But, I'll let you know."

The crossing light changed to white, indicating the street safe to cross. Connor didn't cross. He settled against a building with his phone out and listened to the chatter from the ear piece found on his doorstep last night. The group planned to wait for his signal, which he planned to make very obvious with needing to utter a word over the line. As secure as the line surely was, Connor was wary and aware of all the police patrolling the area.

Growing up a street urchin, he knew their presence would always make him wary.

Prior to this day, he watched the three precincts in area, figuring out the shift changes and main patrol routes. In a few more minutes, at 9:56am, most were either heading to the station to refill their coffees, or leaving for a mid-morning snack.

His watch read 9:43am; too soon to initiate the explosive.

As a new hire, Connor wasn't given any information or contact since his meeting with Todd two weeks ago. The man told him to be ready and they will give him information as need - hence the ear-piece in an unmarked envelope. When he place the item in his ear last night, they explained where the police shouldn't be drawn towards: a large area with little specificity. They were suspicious and curious to see how he may perform. Connor meant to perform well.

9:55am, the alarm went off on his wrist.

Connor pulled a ring box from his pocket. Inside a blue button attached to a signal. At 9:56am, he pressed the button. Then dropped the item on the ground and crushed it below his heel. The button connected to a 7-minute timer wired to a minor explosive in an abandoned recreation center at the middle of the main park, opposite end of the three surrounding precincts' territory.

He flipped a burner phone open and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

"H-hello." He whispered, voice pitched low and wary, "I- I would like to report a suspected explosive at Central and Republic, near the park…?"

"Sir, are you in a safe location?"

"Y-yeah, I was j-just going to play some b-ball but there was a timer and I think the place is going to blow soon! Oh shit, my mom-!" He dropped the phone and curb-stomped it. There, the phone disconnected instead of obviously hanging up.

Connor picked the pieces off the ground and crossed the street when the light changed to white.

Three minutes later two cop cars went roaring by, followed by a fire truck. Voices went alive on his ear piece. "On the move, driving steady." He turned and walked past the 13th precinct. A spilled cup of coffee from Dunkin' Donuts rolled on the sidewalk - likely still warm. Men and women madly spoke into radios on their shoulders as they ran to and fro inside and out to their cars.

Connor gaped like any other civilian passing by. "What's going on?" He asked another passerby, furiously typing on their phone.

"Apparently a bomb went off at the old rec center on Republic Street!"

"What?" He shared a horrified look with the other, then hurried on his way. "A bomb," he muttered. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Well, I didn't know what to expect." Connor forced his shoulders to relax when Todd settled an arm around his shoulders. "But setting an explosive off was genius and I'm eager to see what else you have in store." He squeezed Connor's shoulders. "To do that, I must take you to the main lodgings, my boy."

Connor slipped out from under the man's arm. "Lodgings?"

"I can't have you in an easily-bugged apartment complex!" The man laughed. "Yes, you'll be moving to a more secure location where I don't have to worry about outside influences."

Well, this was certainly a turn of events. "I rented my room ahead of time. There are no returned deposits."

Todd leered. "I'll be paying more handsomely than some one-bedroomed apartment costs. But if you're so worried." A hand dipped in a pocket and pulled out a large stack of tens. "Here's the pay for today. Big jobs such as this one deserve a pat on the back." He slipped his hand in Connor's own pocket before Connor could stop him.

Even though all Todd did was deposit the cash in Connor's coat, Connor felt dirty enough to take a long bath in his dirty one-bedroomed apartment. The money was dirtier than the alleys he used to pass out in.

"Thank you, Todd." Connor smiled back, feeling sick to his core.

The man shook his head. "You'll need a new name, my boy. We don't need lackeys knowing who we are and nattering away to the boys in blue. Pigs." He spat. "While we have boys of our own, on board with the operation, the less work we make for them, the better for our wallets. Understand?"

"I- yes." A new name? Connor was the only name he had. Connor was all he had left - aside from the little children who followed his every waking moment. Although… he supposed a new identity wasn't a terrible plan - none would know to look for him. Maybe a new name wouldn't taint his only true possession. What name though?

"Caleb." He blurted out, the name bursting from his lips before he could snap his mouth closed. Caleb?

"Huh." Todd shrugged. "Caleb it is. And I'm 'the boss' and don't you forget it, Caleb."

Why had he chosen Caleb? Connor hadn't thought of the name since- since before.

Caleb, the other half to Connor.

He pressed a hand to his chest as his heart filled with an ache he used to fill with drugs.

He couldn't do this.

Caleb.

Connor reached down to clasp the small boy's hand in his own. The fingers were sticky, a sharp stink of iron reached his nostrils, causing them to flare. He held tight, seeking comfort from a child long-dead. The nausea roiled and even now, he refused to stare straight on at the small boy. He huffed and acknowledged even now, driven by another task to help, he couldn't face his own demons. He needed the comfort, even sickened by the steady drip drip drip of blood falling from a chest wound, he was comforted.

Connor firmly rubbed the hand with his thumb as he thoughtfully looked about the club and studied the clients and staff. According to research, the club was owned and run by an upstanding member of society, Mr. Adronikov. The man was a Slovakian immigrant who had arrived in the country over fifty-odd years before. According to the business world, he revolutionized clubs by adapting run-down hotels into a sort of Bed and Breakfast type of combination. His slogan flashed in any commercial around ~The Night Must Go On!~ By upscaling an entrance and cover fee, he provided customers with complimentary rooms to stay the night.

Connor shuddered and reached down to grab the small child. Still refusing to lock his gaze on the past, he swung the child into his lap and held on tightly. His head shifted to lean on the boys head and he continued watching the room.

This was the club which took so much of Kara and Luther's time. According to the couple, this Adronikov was responsible for the disappearance of their daughter. His fingers dug into the child. He couldn't imagine what he would do if that man stole his- if he stole-

Connor choked. He'd stopped breathing. He dug his palms into his eyes, only hesitating slightly when the feel of coagulating blood stuck fast.

Adronikov couldn't take the boy from him. Connor straightened in his seat and shoved the small body away. Adronikov couldn't because Connor already had.

"Doing alright there, bud?" A rough voice jerked him from his thoughts and he glanced up to meet the bartender's eyes. Was this man also a captive of the owner? Was his child or wife or brother stolen away? Was he forced to work grueling hours in the hope that one day they'd meet again?

Could Connor even help any of them?

"I-." He huffed. "Could I have a whiskey sour?" He gestured at the liquors lining the wall.

"Sure thing." The other nodded and turned away to do as asked.

Connor smiled tightly in thanks as the man placed the drink down and handed over the required cash. He spun to observe the writhing bodies once more.

How was he going to do this? How could he possibly think he had any power, any ability to do anything when all he had managed to do in his life was self-destruct for years?

He swirled the drink and leaned back against the bar.

Connor was no fool, though he certainly acted like one. He knew what the years of drug abuse had done to his body, he could feel the lasting effects. The hallucinations, though constant since that day, worsened to nearly every waking moment. His paranoia threatened to choke him. He had very little appetite and couldn't put on weight - and oh, Kara had tried.

Kara could cook very well, the food she made was always delicious. It was just… Connor didn't feel like eating. At first she tried to heap his plate, that motherly affection and desire to care for another overtaking her ability to see him. And he tried, he really did. But more than a few mouthfuls at once was just too much for Connor.

Luther had tried to increase his strength, encouraging him to work out in the backyard, offering to spend time with him. Connor couldn't breathe. His heart couldn't handle the stress. More often than not he would fall to the ground, coughing great horrible sounds from the depths of his chest. Luther tried to work him up, to slowly introduce levels of muscle building. But without the proper food intake and his damaged internals, Connor couldn't keep up.

Even now, Connor knew he would never be able to dance as freely as those patrons before him. Were he to have so few problems as they, he knew he physically couldn't handle the actions. Connor was weak.

Another interruption pierced his thoughts moments later. A woman confidently sidled beside him and gave him an appreciative look. She swayed slightly forward and Connor reached out one hand to help catch her. She giggled, high-pitched and breathy.

"Hello gorgeous." She stumbled on the second word, displaying how drunk she truly was. "W-wanna dance?"

Connor gave another tight-lipped smile. "Where are your friends?"

"Gone!" She chuckled, leaning even closer to him. "They found a man to-to give them some fun." She raised eyebrows high. "Be my friend?"

Connor huffed. This was absolutely the worst place for a woman to be by herself, drunk out-of-her-mind, with friends who were potentially already gone. "Do you have a room?" He asked, pulling her closer so she could hear him.

"Oooh." She sang back. "Yessss. Follow me." She seized his shirt and leaned back without moving her feet. He had to leap forward to prevent her from falling flat on her back on the floor. "Sexy." She replied, wriggling in his arms.

About fifteen minutes later found him tucking her into a bed, having managed to change her into a pair of shorts and shirt. The girl was already passed out, the comfort of a bed forcing all thoughts of any 'fun' from her mind.

Makeup was smeared across her brows. Red lipstick threatened to travel to the pillowcase. He'd set her phone to charge where she could grab it the following morning beside a glass of water and a few pain pills he'd found in her purse.

His hand went to his pocket where his own room key rested. He could leave her alone and head back out to the bar and continue watching. He could go to his room and retire for the night. He could stay and make sure she was okay instead.

He removed his shoes and placed them beside her heels by the door. He checked the locks and covered the peephole. The lights flicked off with a quiet click. Then Connor stood there and allowed the sounds of her snores to flow over him. Fingers combed through hair. A small hand grabbed the other hand hanging loosely by his side.

Sparks ran along his spine and- he drew away, wiped his fingers on his pants and climbed beside the girl on the bed. Under the covers to huddle close for warmth. Another effect from his using: he was always cold.

He slept.

The club bustled in preparation for the regular Saturday night crowd. He looked at the list he'd written for himself, a general 'To Do' he followed at every location he observed. The families who lived in the same block as he were blackmailed or threatened and made few attempts to leave. But those who were there fully against their wills, were kept in drugged hazes and hidden in the underground club vaults. They were who he checked on every other week.

Yet still, Connor saw neither hide or hair of Alice or any children taken for blackmailing purposes.

Connor didn't let the families he lived with know he was working of his own free will - no one could know of his mission. But he didn't want to be ignored and spit on for 'willingly' working in the industry. So he commiserated with those in the apartments of hopelessness and despair. None of the families could help him find their children. Connor worried they wouldn't help, even if they could. Many families were so deeply under 'the bosses' thumbs, they likely could only live in despair, lies and fear. Perhaps none believed their family members were even alive anymore, perhaps they did and feared any untoward movements, speech or whisperings would destroy the missing friends.

So Connor didn't tell and most didn't talk.

The Organization was vast and all-powerful. Connor knew he couldn't take them down alone. Neither he or Kara or Luther was enough to bring down Todd and Zlatko and the Big Bosses (the well-funded masterminds and never-seen assholes).

Connor entered the next room which belonged to a set of triplets. The three missing Tracey sisters whose disappearance had sent the college world into a tizzy. Missing advertisements once lined the streets alongside the old fliers for Cole Anderson and hundreds more disintegrating pages. The Tracey sisters who weren't in their assigned room.

What? He hurriedly checked all the corners but found no sign of where they'd gone or if someone took them for a move; one he wasn't informed of? Highly doubtful.

Connor tucked his notebook into his pocket and closed the door behind him. Where were they? He scanned the busily-preparing club staff. None seemed like they were hiding anyone, the same staff who always opened were as they should be. So where were they? His eyes caught an EXIT sign, brightly lit and nearby. His eyes narrowed and he swiftly walked towards it. Could it be they'd managed to escape?

Upon exiting the building, his eyes immediately picked out the three poorly-dressed women, shuffling away and holding tight to one another. He drew his weapon and raised it in warning. "Halt!"

Startled, the group stumbled and turned as one. One sister shoved another and that sister began to run and not look back. The other two shielded her retreating body with their own.

Connor observed them. They were protecting each other, sacrificing themselves for their third. What are you doing, Connor? He startled and looked down. Imploring brown eyes met his own. He felt transfixed by the gaze. His hands wavered, muscles quaking from where they hung in the air, finger poised on the trigger.

What was he doing? They could run and escape and tell the police and maybe they could help. He broke the stare and locked eyes with the remaining Traceys. Their absence wouldn't go unnoticed long. His own absence was sure to be noticed by now. How could he keep up the appearance of working for the Organization while also letting them go? His eyes flicked down to the weapon, then off to the side where two boys played paddy-cake.

Connor raised the gun and flicked the safety 'on'. He tossed it down the alley to the two women. "Run." He turned to the brick wall and hesitated. No, he had to do this. He made a fist and slammed his hand into the wall. Crunch. White-hot agony raced directly to his brain and screamed to stop.

The only way to stop was to- and without thinking about it further, slammed his forehead directly into the wall. Dazed, Connor slumped to the ground. He hissed as his broken hand caught his fall and more pain filtered through the slow-pulse of weary thoughts.

…his hands were sticky.

He raised the mutilated fingers to his blurry vision and red blood soaked his hands.

His knees burned from crawling on the carpet and Caleb's eyes met his own in fright. "Get the gun, Connor!"

The man huffed up the stairs, screaming for the little brats to come out and play. The man entered the doorway, Connor raised his gun and fired. But Noah was standing in the doorway and fell over with a cry. And Connor thought- thought- I killed my brother. I shot my brother.

Connor cried and frantically began to rub his bloodied, broken hand on to the dirty alley ground. "No! No, no no Noah."

His hands were sticky with blood.

Brown eyes met his own. Why, Connor? Why?

Detroit, Michigan authorities announced 23 arrests from a large-scale 2-month long undercover sting operation dubbed "Operation Bring Them Home." The arrested are in connection with human trafficking operations and the increased number of reported missing in the last five years.

"Officers and undercover detectives placed ads on websites and apps which are commonly used by the general clientele for these types of organizations," the Central Detroit Police Captain Jeffrey Fowler said in a statement.

Those arrested are accused of soliciting and/or brokering deals for various sex acts, DBN reported.

Connor flipped the paper to his left and grabbed another with a similar headline. He skimmed the first half.

…in addition to the arrested, police rescued 17 women and 5 men in their "Operation Bring Them Home." No identities have been revealed, yet. But many parents of missing children are eagerly waiting to hear back.

"Who knows how long and when they started the ring. My daughter, Hanna, she was seventeen years old when she went to a party and never returned. The case went cold, but maybe- I hope she finally comes home."

As you can see, this operation has brought hope back to many families and friends …

Another article.

"Human trafficking crosses all lines - county lines, state lines and human decency lines. The men, women and children aren't there willingly," Detective Hubert from Precinct 23 said.

"We're currently investigating relatives, friends and anyone who worked with the arrested to determine if they were accomplices or unaware of these peoples' crimes."

As always, if you have a suspicion of sex trade operations, please report it to your local law enforcement agency immediately.

Connor leaned back into his chair and stared at his ceiling. While the rescue of the poor people was inherently good, he couldn't help but feel a sinking stone in his gut. Undoubtedly, the bosses were going mad with anger and anxiety.

He closed his eyes and rubbed the point in his stomach which clenched so tightly. Todd sent him a text to meet in an often-unused meeting place. Connor had no connections to the police, yet he feared the man may have caught on to his activities.

He knew he had to go. He simply worried he wouldn't return.

6pm in the Gold Apartments.

Connor reread the text several times.

The ceiling light flickered, seemingly agreeing with the difficult situation.

Todd slammed the door open when he knocked and gestured him inside. The door barely shut behind Connor before the man was angrily pacing a well-worn trail. "I don't understand how they got us - no one had an idea there were pigs roaming around. The Boss is upset and for a very good reason!" Connor settled carefully on a nearby sofa, ready to leap up should the situation call for it.

"They came too close to the safe houses. They could have found the children and then what? Then what, Caleb? The entire organization would be in ruins."

Connor jolted at children, though he tensed his muscles to still himself, Todd caught the surprise and turned with an eyebrow high. "What, Caleb?"

Don't mentioned the children, he reminded himself. "So close to our assurances? How?"

Todd huffed. "The dumb bitch, Chloe thought keeping them near would make it easier to remind anyone thinking of telling the cops, not to. We were lucky enough no one told our guys who worked there."

Chloe? Why did that name sound so familiar? "Who is she to make such calls?" Connor scoffed and shook his head.

"Chloe," Todd spat the name, adding an actual spit on the floor to display his distaste "thinks she's all important just for being the Boss's wife. I wonder if he knows how useless she is?" Todd continued to spit obscenities at the woman.

Connor zoned him out. Chloe, the wife of the man behind the scenes. The first name Chloe attached to some very rich person with enough power to buy out officers in the police force. Who was Chloe?

Todd also mentioned children. Children hidden and kept simply for the purpose of security. The children absolutely must include Alice. She was so close to home for so long and none knew it.

"…Caleb?"

Connor refocused on his boss. "Yes?"

"I said, are you ready for the biggest move of your life, Caleb?"

"Of course, what does it entail?"

Todd slammed a hand on the table. "We're moving the goddamn children and Chloe doesn't need to know. Let her ride along with the police, confused and useless. She's already both."

Connor nodded in agreement. "How soon will we be moving them?"

Todd hesitated his pacing. "We can't move too quickly, the entire area is infested with police right now. Any obvious moves will be caught immediately. Even if you managed to get most squads away, the news may leave reporters around to get 'new takes' and the cops will have a squad or two hanging around to keep the news people out. Everything is too close together. I'll send you word when the place settles down a little. You're dismissed."

Connor nodded and left.

Pulling out a burner, Connor dialed Luther. He was settled in a coffeehouse near his apartment complex. Calls like this shouldn't be held inside a building bugged to hell and back. But he knew going further than a few blocks would have him followed. So he stayed near enough to keep an eye out, but far enough they couldn't hear him. He was a loyal dog after all.

"Who is this?" Luther answered the phone, suspicious.

"It's Connor. I have news. Are you in a secured location?"

"I am. Go ahead."

"Tonight, while briefing with the boss regarding the recent police bust, he let slip several key pieces of information. Remember the name Chloe. She is apparently the wife of the boss. She made the decision to keep the insurance for your obedience nearby." He trailed off and waited.

Then. "Alice?" Luther breathed heavy.

"Yes." Connor assured. "Secured nearby. The boss is antsy and planning to move their main location, he is biding his time - we have time. Just not too much time. He's nervous and will make a mistake. We'll find her, Luther. We are so close."