Sarah recognized that particular brand of trauma the hypervigilance that came from losing someone you should have protected. She'd felt it after Marcus died, had spent months barely sleeping, convinced that if she'd just paid more attention, just been more alert, she could have saved him.
"How did your meeting with Webb go?" Alex asked.
"I'm on administrative leave as of one hour ago." Sarah delivered the news flatly, like she was reporting on someone else's career imploding. "Anonymous complaint filed with IA. Accusations of unauthorized surveillance, harassment, misuse of department resources. Badge and weapon confiscated pending investigation."
Alex's jaw tightened, but he didn't look surprised. "They moved fast."
"They had to. I was getting too close." Sarah pulled out her phone, showing him the timeline she'd constructed. "Evidence stolen at 0437 hours. My meeting with Webb at 0800. Commissioner called him at 0847 with the formal complaint. That's a four-hour response time from evidence theft to administrative leave. Someone was watching, waiting for the right moment to shut me down."
"And they timed it perfectly right after you secured your evidence but before you could act on it." Alex opened his folder, but his attention remained on her face. "How are you handling it?"
The question surprised her. Most cops would focus on the investigation, on tactics and next steps. But Alex was asking about her, about the emotional impact of having your career stripped away.
"I'm pissed off," Sarah said honestly. "I've been a cop for twelve years. Made detective in eight. Solved cases other people gave up on. And now I'm being investigated because I had the audacity to pursue a case that powerful people want buried." She looked at him directly. "But I'm also relieved."
"Relieved?"
"Because now I can stop pretending to follow rules that don't apply. Stop worrying about chain of custody and proper procedure and all the bureaucracy that lets guilty people walk free." Sarah's voice hardened. "They wanted me off the official investigation? Fine. Now I can investigate the way this case actually needs to be investigated."
Alex nodded slowly, something like respect crossing his features. "Welcome to the shadows, Detective. It's lonely here, but at least it's honest."
He opened the folder fully, pulling out printouts that made Sarah's stomach clench. Medical journals. Pharmaceutical databases. Chemical formulas. And photographs crime scene photos of Maria Martinez's wrist, enhanced and magnified to show details that hadn't been visible in the original images.
"The tattoo you found," Alex said without preamble. "INA seven. I know what it means."
Sarah leaned forward, pulse quickening. "Tell me."
"INA isn't part of a name or a location. It's a drug protocol." Alex laid out pages from a European medical journal, text highlighted in yellow. "Insulin-Naloxone-Ativan. Three drugs combined in specific ratios to create a sedation protocol used in some psychiatric facilities overseas. It's not FDA approved in the United States, but it's legal in parts of Europe and Asia."
Sarah scanned the pages, her detective's brain cataloging information even as horror settled in her chest. "What does it do?"
"Creates a state of chemical compliance. Patients remain conscious and mobile, can follow simple commands and perform basic tasks, but they're incapable of complex thought or resistance. They can't plan escapes, can't fight back, can't even really comprehend that they're being held against their will." Alex's voice was tight, controlled. "It's the perfect drug cocktail for trafficking victims. Keeps them functional enough to work but docile enough to control."
"Jesus Christ." Sarah thought about Maria Martinez, about the careful positioning of her body, about the rose placed with such precision. Had Maria been conscious when she died? Had she understood what was happening even as the drugs prevented her from fighting back?
"There's more." Alex pulled out additional documents. "The protocol requires regular administration every twelve to eighteen hours depending on dosage and patient metabolism. Miss a dose, and the victim starts regaining cognitive function. Which means someone with medical training has to monitor and dose them continuously."
"Someone like a doctor or nurse employed by Meridian Holdings."
"Exactly. And the number seven in the tattoo? I think it indicates dosage level." Alex showed her a medical chart detailing different INA concentrations. "Body weight, metabolism, individual drug tolerance all those factors determine how much medication is needed to maintain compliance. Seven could be a code for 'dose level seven' or 'administer every seven hours.' Either way, it's a tracking system to ensure the right victim receives the right amount."
Sarah felt sick. This wasn't just trafficking it was systematic dehumanization. Reducing human beings to inventory that needed proper chemical maintenance.
"If they're using INA protocol," she said, thinking through implications, "they need a source for the drugs. Insulin and ativan are controlled substances. You can't just order massive quantities without raising red flags."
"Which is why I've been tracking their supply chain." Alex pulled out more printouts purchase orders, shipping manifests, corporate filings. "There's a compounding pharmacy in Ontario, California. Westlake Medical Supply. They specialize in custom drug formulations for international clients legitimate medications mixed in non-standard ratios for specific medical needs."
"Let me guess. Meridian Holdings is a client."
"One of its subsidiaries. Harmony Healthcare Solutions, which operates the wellness centers." Alex spread out the purchase orders, highlighting key information. "They've been ordering industrial quantities of insulin, naloxone, and ativan for three years. Individually, those are legitimate medical supplies. But look at the ratios they're always ordered in the same proportions, always shipped together, always delivered to locations that aren't primary medical facilities."
Sarah studied the documents, seeing the pattern. Fifteen hundred units of insulin, three hundred milliliters of naloxone concentrate, six hundred tablets of ativan. The same ratio repeated across dozens of orders. "This is evidence. This proves Meridian is obtaining drugs in quantities and combinations that have no legitimate medical purpose."
"It was evidence." Alex's expression went dark. "Westlake Medical Supply burned down yesterday afternoon. Complete loss, all records destroyed. Fire marshal ruled it accidental electrical fire in the storage area that spread to the main building."