Chapter 2
CHAPTER 3 — The Ghost in the Server
By 7:00 a.m., the sleet had frozen into a solid sheet of ice over Westbridge.
I walked out of the hospital through the sliding glass doors, holding a fresh cup of coffee.
An unmarked black SUV was idling in the drop-off lane.
Marcus was sitting in the driver's seat.
I climbed into the passenger side, immediately appreciating the blast of the heater.
"You made good time," I said.
"When the Special Counsel calls before dawn, I don't hit snooze," Marcus replied, handing me a secure encrypted tablet.
"Did we get into Dr. Vance's clinic?"
Marcus smiled. A predatory, satisfied smile.
"We breached the doors at 5:50 a.m."
"Dr. Vance wasn't there, but his servers were."
"And?"
"And he's sloppy, Clara."
"He created your mother's 'dementia diagnosis' exactly four days ago."
"But the metadata on the PDF shows it was authored on Brooke Vance's personal laptop."
I stared at the screen.
"Brooke typed up the diagnosis herself?"
"Yep. And Dr. Vance simply copy-pasted it onto his clinic's official letterhead."
It was worse than I thought.
It was arrogant.
They believed Captain Landry's protection in the local precinct made them completely untouchable.
"What about the police station?" I asked.
"The message you sent from the precinct at 3:00 a.m. worked."
"I placed a federal freeze on the Westbridge PD cloud servers."
"Captain Landry tried to access the administrative portal at 3:15 a.m. to delete the body camera footage."
I leaned forward.
"Did he succeed?"
Marcus tapped the tablet, bringing up a video file.
"He hit a firewall set up by the Department of Justice."
"He was locked out of his own station's mainframe."
"We have the original, unedited footage from the rookie officer who responded to the 911 call."
"Play it," I ordered.
The screen flickered to life.
The timestamp read 1:42 a.m.
The body camera bobbed as the rookie officer rushed through the front door of my mother's house.
The audio kicked in.
Loud shouting.
The sound of something shattering.
Then, the camera rounded the corner into the living room.
My mother was on the floor, curled into a defensive ball, her arms raised over her head.
Standing above her was Brooke.
Her face was twisted in rage.
In her hands, she gripped a solid aluminum baseball bat.
She swung it down.
A sickening thud echoed through the speaker.
My mother cried out in pain.
In the corner of the room, sitting on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand, was my brother.
Arthur.
He wasn't trying to stop her.
He wasn't shouting.
He was just watching.
My fingernails dug into the leather of the SUV's armrest.
It took every ounce of professional discipline I possessed not to shatter the tablet.
The rookie officer drew his weapon.
"Drop the bat! Drop it now!"
Brooke froze, finally realizing the police had arrived.
She dropped the aluminum bat.
It clattered against the hardwood floor.
Then, a second officer walked into the frame.
Captain Landry.
He hadn't been dispatched. He had arrived independently.
"Put the gun away, kid," Landry ordered the rookie.
"Captain?" the rookie asked, confused.
"I said put it away. This is my niece."
Landry walked over to Brooke, whispering something in her ear.
Brooke immediately reached up and scratched her own cheek violently with her fingernails.
She drew blood.
Then, she started crying hysterically.
"She attacked me!" Brooke screamed, pointing at my bleeding mother on the floor.
"She has dementia! She went crazy!"
Landry turned to the rookie.
"You heard her. The old lady is unstable. Cuff her."
The rookie hesitated.
"But Captain... the bat—"
"What bat?" Landry interrupted, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
He picked up the aluminum bat, wiped the handle with his sleeve, and walked it out the front door.
"There is no bat. Understand?"
The video ended.
The screen went black.
I sat in the silence of the SUV, the heater blowing warm air against my face.
"Marcus," I said quietly.
"Yes, Clara?"
"Draft the arrest warrants."
"All of them?"
"Every single one."
"Conspiracy. Assault with a deadly weapon. Obstruction of justice. Tampering with evidence."
May you like
I looked out the window at the freezing rain.
"No one gets to touch my mother and walk away."
