Kyle stood outside the dim French bistro, staring at the warm glow inside as if it might burn him. He hadn’t seen Mindy in years—not since things ended quietly, cleanly, and without the bitter residue most of his relationships left behind. Yet here he was, heart pounding harder than it had on any crime scene.
She’d called him out of nowhere, voice trembling, asking for help. Not as a friend. Not as an ex. As a woman in trouble. The kind of trouble that made her speak in code and walk alone at night just to make a phone call.
Inside, she was already waiting—poised, beautiful, composed. But Kyle could see it immediately: the cracks. The wine glass trembling in her hand. The way her eyes flicked toward the door twice before she smiled at him.
“I need your help,” she said softly. “And I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” he said before he could stop himself.
“You can’t tell anyone I came to you—not your partner, not the department. No one.”
Kyle hesitated. “What’s going on, Mindy?”
She leaned in, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think someone’s watching me. I think... he knows I’m trying to leave.”
“He? Your husband?”
But she didn’t answer. Instead, she reached into her purse and slid a small flash drive across the table.
“Watch this when you’re alone,” she said. “And Kyle—whatever you do, don’t trust—”
The restaurant door chimed.
Mindy’s face drained of color. Her hand retracted from the table like she’d touched fire.
Kyle turned, instinctively reaching for the badge he wasn’t wearing.
A man stood in the doorway, eyes locked on their table. Smiling.
“I have to go,” she said, already on her feet. “Call me in the morning.”
“Mindy—wait—”
But she was gone, disappearing through the back like a shadow.
And Kyle? He was left with a half-finished glass of wine, a cold flash drive in his pocket...
…and the sinking realization that he had just stepped into something far more dangerous than a domestic dispute.
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