I stood there, frozen on the sidewalk, watching the flashing lights reflect off the glass of Dalton’s shattered storefront.
My heart was pounding in my ears, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe properly.
I just kept watching the police officers swarm the scene like ants, marking evidence, securing the perimeter, doing their damn jobs.
Then I caught something — a voice from inside the shop.
"...the CCTV monitor’s here," one of the officers was saying, frustrated.
"But the whole hard drive’s missing. Someone yanked it."
I stiffened instantly.
Without thinking, I shoved past the tape again, ignoring the officer’s shouts behind me.
I stormed into the shop — broken glass crunching under my boots — and headed straight for the counter where Dalton used to keep his security setup.
