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Chapter 7

As I entered the bullpen at the FBI field office, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer energy that seemed to pulse through the room. Agents hurried past, their voices a cacophony of urgent commands and muffled laughter. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and stale donuts, but somehow it all added to the electric atmosphere. I nodded at familiar faces as I made my way over to my desk, my gaze drifting over the familiar posters tacked to the corkboard above it.

There was a wanted poster for a notorious drug lord, a missing person's flyer for a young woman who had vanished without a trace, and a photo of my team from our last successful sting operation.

As I peered over at Ethan's desk, I noticed he hadn't made an appearance yet. Turning n my computer, I listened to its hum as it powered up.

"Hey, Nicole," called out a female voice. I looked up to see Lily, one of the new recruits, making her way over in my direction. "Paul said to ask you where I might find the back files on the Brewer case?"

I smiled and gestured toward the filing cabinets against the far wall. "They should be in the fourth drawer down, second from the left. Just make sure to sign them out at the front desk."

Lily nodded her thanks and hurried off to retrieve the files. I returned my attention to my computer, still waiting for Ethan to arrive. After a few more minutes, I heard the familiar thud of his boot heels as he made his way across the bullpen.

Seconds later, he dropped into his chair with a slight groan. Not looking at me, he set a coffee cup down on his desk as he muttered, "We got a new message from HQ. They want us on standby for a possible lead on the Morales case."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. The Morales case had been a particularly difficult one for us. A high-profile mobster with tentacles reaching deep into the city's underworld.

"Anything more than just 'standby'?" I asked, already knowing the answer. Ethan shook his head. "Just to be prepared in case something comes up. We're supposed to keep our ears open and our eyes peeled."

The mention of the Morales case brought a surge of adrenaline, but I tried to keep my expression neutral. We had been working on tracking down the mobster for months, and so far, all our leads had gone cold. It was frustrating, to say the least.

"Well," I said, clearing my throat, "I'll start digging into the files we have on him. Maybe there's something we missed." Ethan nodded, his gaze fixed on his computer screen.

I pulled up the Morales file on my monitor and began scanning through the reports, notes, and surveillance footage. As I worked, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of determination. We had come too far to give up now. I scrolled through one particularly interesting email, sent by an anonymous tipster, when something caught my eye. A name I hadn't seen before.

"Hey, Ethan," I called out. "Did we ever follow up on this?" I leaned forward, pointing at the screen. "There was an email here, from someone claiming to know the whereabouts of Morales. The name on it says 'Jane Doe'."

Ethan pushed out of his chair, coming over to stand next to me. Leaning in to take a closer look, he asked, "You think it could be real?"

Halfway into a shrug, I looked up, then gasped. "What the fuck happened to your face?"

Ethan winced, a hand automatically going up to touch his swollen cheekbone. "Oh, that? Just got into a bit of a scuffle last night." He tried to laugh it off, but the pained expression on his face belied his attempt at bravado. "Nothing major."

"You sure about that?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because that looks like more than just a 'bit of a scuffle' to me."

He shrugged, grimacing. "Let's just say the other guy looks worse."

I glanced at the clock, then back at Ethan. "You wanna go to the doctor before your face gets any worse?"

Ethan shook his head, "Nah, I'm good."

As we made our way out of the bullpen, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of concern for Ethan and excitement about the new lead. The Jane Doe email might just be the break we needed to finally bring Morales down.

As we were about to leave the building, my phone buzzed with a new message from the anonymous tipster.

"Ethan, look at this." I held out my phone, showing him the screen. "They've sent us another email. They say they'll give us more information if we meet them at the abandoned warehouse on East 3rd Street at midnight."

Ethan's eyes widened, and for a moment, I could see the frustration he felt at having to wait, but finally he asked, "You good for it?"

I hesitated for a moment, considering the risks involved. "I'm in," I replied.

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