Damien stared down at the phone number June had just sent. His jaw clenched, every digit burning behind his eyes. He turned sharply and crossed the study, the heat in his veins barely restrained.

“I have Ethan’s number,” he said to Daramola, his voice low and deadly. “Trace it.”

The superintendent didn’t miss a beat. He turned to the far side of the room where a tech officer was already seated in front of a rugged laptop with cables and boosters plugged in. “Kabir, start a trace. Now.”

“I’m on it,” Kabir replied, already bringing up a suite of tracking applications. “What do we have? Just the number?”

Damien tossed...