The alley air was cold, but the chill I felt had nothing to do with the temperature. Miller stood before me, a solitary, imposing figure. He wasn't reaching for his weapon, or his cuffs. His power lay not in physical force, but in the knowledge he held.
"How long have you been watching me, Miller?" I asked, my hand still near my own weapon, ready but not drawing.
"Long enough," he replied, his voice quiet, almost regretful. "Since the Freeman case. Your intensity. Your focus. It wasn't just about the job." He paused. "Then the camera glitch near your desk. Not a glitch. Someone manually disabled the feed. And they knew exactly when and where to do it."
He took another step closer, forcing me to hold my ground. "I started looking. Not for a leak, at first. Just… inconsistencies. Your movements. Your off-duty time. The cases you took a particular interest in." He stopped, his gaze piercing. "Coleman. The Westlake Hotel. Unexplained cardiac event. No foul play."
He knew about Coleman. He was connecting dots I thought were invisible.
"You were one of the first officers on scene," Miller continued. "Processed it yourself. Ruled it natural causes. Very efficient." A sardonic edge entered his voice. "Too efficient, maybe."
My mind raced. How much did he know? Had he connected me to Vivian? To Simone? To the deaths?
"What are you implying, Captain?" I asked, my voice level, giving nothing away.
"I'm implying you're involved," he stated flatly. "In something that goes beyond this department. Beyond the law." He didn't say vigilante. He didn't say murderer. But the implication hung heavy in the air. "Who is Vivian? Who is Simone Dubois?"
He knew about the personas. Sterling. The network. This was worse than I thought.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied, maintaining my poker face.
Miller didn't flinch. "Cut the crap, Blackwood. I saw the security logs from the hotel where Sterling was picked up. You were there. As Simone Dubois. The unit that busted Sterling mentioned a woman who matched your description, who disappeared when they moved in. And Sterling, before his lawyer shut him down, started yelling something about a woman who wasn't who she seemed."
He had connected Simone to the Sterling bust, to the description. The web was tightening.
"And the items disappearing from your desk?" Miller pressed. "The tracker? Did you think I didn't know? Did you think I wasn't running my own counter-surveillance after the camera glitch?"
He wasn't just investigating a leak; he had turned the leak investigation into a personal mission to uncover my secrets. He had let the subtle surveillance happen, perhaps even facilitated it, to see how I would react, to see what it would reveal. He was playing a long game.
"Someone is targeting you," Miller said. "Someone with access. Someone who knew about your interest in the network, in Sterling, maybe even your little side projects." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "Are they connected to the network? Is that why they're watching you? Because you're a threat to them?"
This was his angle. He saw me as a wild card, potentially a rogue element fighting the network, but doing so outside the bounds of the law. He didn't have proof of murder, not yet. But he had enough to end my career, to send me to prison for obstruction, for God knows what else.
"I'm a detective, Captain," I said, my voice firm. "I investigate crimes. That's all."
"Don't lie to me," Miller said, his voice hardening. "I've seen the look in your eyes, Blackwood. I saw it when you talked about Freeman. I saw it when you looked at the victims' photos. You have a fire in you, an anger, that goes deeper than justice."
He stepped closer still, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Here's what's going to happen. You're not going to be arrested tonight. Not yet. But you are going to work for me. You're going to tell me everything you know about this network. Everything you know about who is watching you. And you're going to do it my way."
A deal. A devil's bargain. Cooperation under duress. He wouldn't expose me, but he would control me. He needed my knowledge, my access, my unique ability to navigate the shadows the official investigation couldn't reach.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, though I knew the answer.
"Then I walk into the precinct, and I tell them everything I've found," Miller said, his expression grim. "The inconsistent timelines. The multiple identities. Your presence at suspicious death scenes ruled natural. The evidence of you tampering with surveillance equipment. Your career is over, Blackwood. Your life as you know it is over. And who knows what the people watching you will do then?"
He held all the cards. He had trapped me. I was not caught, not officially, but I was cornered, my secret exposed to the one person who could dismantle my entire existence.
"What do you want?" I asked, the words tasting like ash.
Miller's eyes held a mixture of grim determination and something akin to reluctant respect. "I want the truth about this network. The whole truth. And I think you're the only one who can get it for me." He extended a hand, not for a shake, but offering a small, encrypted burner phone. "This is how you contact me. Only this. We work in the shadows now, Detective. You and I."
The walls hadn't just closed in; they had formed a cage, and Miller held the key. I was still free, technically, but my freedom was now conditional, tied to the will of the one man who knew my deepest secret.