Chapter 3 - The County Deputy
The front door chimed as Deputy Vance stepped into the store. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late thirties, wearing a heavy tan winter jacket with the Knox County Sheriff’s patch on the sleeve. Snow clung to his wide-brimmed hat, and his leather boots thudded heavily against the linoleum floor.
"Toby," the deputy nodded toward the clerk before turning his attention to the back booth. His eyes swept over Daniel—noticing the expensive tailored sweater, the polished leather boots, and the calm, controlled posture—before settling on the little girl wrapped in the oversized dark coat.
"Evening," Deputy Vance said, walking over to the booth. He pulled off his thick winter gloves. "I'm Deputy Vance. You the one who called in the abandoned child?"
"I am," Daniel said, standing up to shake the officer's hand. "Daniel Mercer."
Vance gave a sharp, recognizing blink. "Daniel Mercer? As in Mercer Logistics over in Newark?"
"That's me," Daniel said smoothly, stepping slightly to the side to keep his body between the deputy's imposing frame and Clara, who had shrunk back into the booth, her amber eyes wide with sudden terror. "I pulled in to get coffee twenty minutes ago. A silver minivan pulled up to the edge of the lot, dropped her off, and drove away heading west on Route 9."
Vance sighed, pulling a small notepad and a pen from his breast pocket. "Did you catch a license plate? Make? Model?"
"It was a late-2010s Chrysler Town & Country," Daniel replied instantly, his sharp memory for detail kicking in. "Silver or light gray. Damaged rear bumper on the driver's side. The left taillight was out. I couldn't see the full plate because of the slush, but the first three characters were Ohio tags starting with 'G-J-K'."
Vance looked up from his pad, visibly impressed. "That's a hell of a description, Mr. Mercer. Most people just see a gray van."
"I pay attention," Daniel said flatly. "And you need to look at her coat, Deputy."
Vance stepped closer, leaning over the table. Daniel reached down and pulled open the lapel of the green canvas jacket, exposing the thick black lettering stenciled into the fabric.
Vance read it silently. His jaw tightened, a low, breathy curse escaping his lips. "Jesus Christ."
"She said the man who drove the van was her 'Uncle Marcus'," Daniel said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. "She was told that if she took the coat off, the police would put her in a cage."
Vance looked down at Clara. His harsh, weather-beaten face softened instantly. He knelt by the booth, keeping his voice extremely low. "Hey there, little lady. I'm Deputy Vance. I promise you nobody is putting you in a cage. My job is to keep kids safe."
Clara didn't speak. She grabbed the edge of Daniel’s sweater with her small hand, anchoring herself to him.
Vance stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. "All right. Here's what happens now. Because it's Christmas Eve, Child Protective Services is operating on an emergency skeleton crew out of Mount Vernon. I'll have to radio dispatch, get an emergency caseworker assigned, and transport her to the Knox County Sheriff's station until the caseworker arrives."
"Transport her in the back of a cruiser?" Daniel asked, his brows furrowing.
"It's standard protocol, Mr. Mercer," Vance explained calmly. "She's a minor found abandoned. I have to take her in, write the report, and hand her over to the state."
"Look at her, Deputy," Daniel said, pointing to Clara, who was clutching his sweater so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "She's traumatized. She's spent the last hour thinking she was abandoned to freeze. Placing her in the back of a police car and sitting her in an interrogation room at a sheriff's station on Christmas Eve is going to terrify her."
Vance looked conflicted. "Mr. Mercer, I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I can't just leave a child with a stranger, no matter how nice your suit is or how much money you have in Newark."
"I'm not asking you to leave her with a stranger," Daniel said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He extracted a gold-embossed business card and a state identification card, handing them to the deputy. "My name is Daniel Mercer. I own three commercial properties in this county. I am a licensed corporate trustee. I will drive my own vehicle directly behind your cruiser to the station. She sits in my passenger seat, warm, with a seatbelt on. You keep your lights on in front of us the entire way."
Vance looked at the gold-embossed card, then at Daniel's firm, unyielding expression, and finally down at Clara, who was leaning her head against Daniel's hip.
May you like
Vance let out a long breath, the snow on his collar melting into dark spots. "Drive right behind me, Mr. Mercer. Bumper to bumper. If you drop back even fifty feet, I pull you over and put her in my cruiser. Understood?"
"Understood," Daniel said.
