Dylan closed the folder with a sharp snap, his gaze hard. "Find that prisoner before anyone else does," he commanded. "We can't afford to lose him too. I need to know who is behind all this."
Justin hung his head down. "This time, it was our fault," he said apologetically. "We weren't careful enough when we approached him. He must've sensed our presence and bolted. Before we could get to him, a car came out of nowhere—and rammed him. We could do nothing."
He paused, and the horrific scene of the car hitting the man and speeding away flashed across his mind. He shook his head, shrugging off the disturbing images.
"It was too dark to catch the license plate," he added bitterly.
Dylan's fists clenched on the desk. "So, what you're saying is, you have no lead—nothing to track down the person who killed him?"
"I…" Justin opened his mouth. For a moment, he was at a loss for words. "Sorry to disappoint you, sir."
