Chapter 3 - Recruiting the Defiant
I couldn't storm a high-security medical facility alone, especially not with an active parole officer monitoring my coordinates. I needed an ally.
I walked downtown to a small, cramped office above a bail bondsman's shop. The faded gold lettering on the glass door read: Maya Vance, Attorney at Law.
Three years ago, Maya was a junior defense attorney who fought like a lioness to prove my innocence. She was the only person in that courtroom who didn't look at me like a criminal. When I pushed the door open, she looked up from her desk, her sharp eyes widening in immediate shock.
"Finnley," she breathed, standing up so fast her chair rolled into the wall. "You're out. You didn't tell me your release date."
"I didn't want anyone tracking me, Maya," I said, setting my backpack on her desk and pulling out the files from Unit 108. "My father is alive. Reagan and Carter are keeping him chemically imprisoned at St. Jude’s to steal the remaining shares of the company."
Maya didn't tell me I was crazy. She didn't call my parole officer. She simply pulled the files toward her, her legal mind scanning the forged power of attorney and the falsified medical records with terrifying speed.
"This doctor who signed the dementia diagnosis," Maya pointed to the signature, her jaw tightening. "Dr. Harrison. He was stripped of his medical license in two other counties for over-prescribing sedatives to wealthy elderly patients. Reagan didn't just hide your father, Finnley. She bought a medical executioner."
She looked up at me, a fierce, protective fire in her eyes. "We have less than two days before the board meeting on his birthday. If we try to go through the courts to invalidate the power of attorney, Reagan's lawyers will tie us up for months. We need to get him out of there ourselves."
May you like
"That’s breaking and entering, Maya. If I get caught, I go back to prison for twenty years."
"Then we'll just have to make sure we don't get caught," she said, reaching for her car keys.
