Water dripped somewhere in the distance. Each drop echoing off the concrete walls. Security panel has to be down here somewhere, she whispered to herself, keeping her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry. Moving carefully despite her injuries, Trina crept along the walls, scanning for electrical fixtures. Her fingers traced along rough concrete until they found what she was looking for. a utility access panel hidden behind a stack of moldy cardboard boxes.
The panel's lock was simple enough. She pulled a bobby pin from her hair and had it open in seconds. Inside, a maze of wires and circuit breakers presented itself. Trina smiled grimly. This was the station's central nervous system.
She traced the security circuits, found the one she needed, and carefully redirected power from the camera feeds. Now she just had to find the armory before anyone noticed. The basement layout was fairly standard for a small town precinct. Trina moved deeper into the shadows. Past shelves crammed with evidence boxes and case files yellowed with age.
Her bare feet made no sound on the cold floor. They'd taken her boots during processing. The armory door stood at the end of a short hallway. Its heavy metal frame a stark contrast to the crumbling walls around it. Another lock, this one more sophisticated.
It took her nearly two minutes to defeat it. "Seriously," she breathed as the door swung open. The weapon racks were almost completely bare, just empty hooks and dust where rifles and shotguns should have been. Faulner had clearly been planning ahead. But there, in a forgotten corner under some old riot gear, she found it.
A battered X26 taser. Probably considered too old for service, but still functional. The charge indicator showed green when she tested it. Better than nothing. A bank of old security monitors caught her eye, pushed against the back wall.
Most were dark, but three still displayed grainy feeds from external cameras. Trina's pulse quickened as she noticed the timestamp on the footage. Just a few hours old. She rewound the feed, scanning backwards until she found what she needed. The black transport truck appeared on screen, turning east out of the rest stop.
She followed its progress across multiple camera views until it turned onto Route 16, heading straight for the abandoned Midwest meats processing plant. Got you," she whispered, memorizing the route. That facility had been shut down years ago after health code violations. Perfect cover for trafficking operations. Suddenly, heavy footsteps pounded overhead.
A door slammed, followed by shouting. Trina's muscles tensed as Faulner's voice carried through the ceiling. "She's loose in the building. Lock it down now." Radiostatic crackled.
Then Rusk's excited reply. Copy that. All units converge on the station. Suspect is considered dangerous. Trina moved fast, plotting her escape route.
The basement had to have an emergency exit. She found it behind a row of filing cabinets. A metal door with a push bar, probably rusted shut from disuse. More footsteps above. Running now.