Chapter 6 - The Broken Link
The trial was set for the spring, giving the prosecution time to build a comprehensive case against the network of buyers Roland had cultivated. But the system was already fighting back from the inside.
One evening, Detective Harmon arrived at the safe house without her usual smile. She sat at the kitchen island, her face drawn into tight lines of exhaustion.
"We lost a key piece of the puzzle today, Vera," Harmon said, rubbing her temples. "Carl Fletcher’s legal counsel filed a motion to suppress the hard drive evidence, claiming the search warrant for the study was flawed because the initial entry was based on an emergency response rather than a specific property warrant."
"What does that mean?" I asked, a cold dread rising in my chest.
"It means if the judge agrees with them, the ledger books and the financial records linking the buyers to your father could be thrown out," Harmon explained. "They’re trying to cut the arms off the octopus. If they can suppress the digital evidence, the case narrows down to just your father and the physical room. The people who bought those kids—the judges, the politicians—will slip away clean."
"Then we have to rely on Sienna," Deandra said, stepping in from the living room.
"Yes," Harmon nodded, looking at me with deep concern. "But Arthur Vance knows that too. They've hired a forensic psychologist who specializes in destroying child testimonies. They're going to try to prove that Sienna’s memory is faulty—that she can't distinguish between what she actually saw and what she imagined during her escape."
May you like
I stood up, walking to the window that looked out into the dark pine forest. The wind was howling, rattling the ballistic glass. My father’s money was still working, even from a prison cell in Chicago. It was a machine designed to grind down the truth until nothing was left but doubt.
"She’s not going to break," I said, turning back to face them, my voice ringing with a fierce, absolute certainty. "Because she didn't just see the room, Harmon. She memorized their names. She knows their birthdays. She promised them she wouldn't forget. And an eight-year-old girl's promise is stronger than all the money my father ever made."
