Chapter 4 - Mercy House
Twenty-three children.
I counted the names twice.
The youngest was eleven.
The oldest seventeen.
Some had been transferred under juvenile court orders.
Others appeared to have been classified as runaways.
Three had no listed guardian.
Two were marked deceased.
Every one of them had passed through Briar County's custody system.
Naomi placed the document in an evidence sleeve.
"Where did this come from?"
Martha shook her head.
"The printer started by itself."
"Who has access?"
"County records. Dispatch. The courthouse."
Voss suddenly lunged toward the counter.
"That's confidential!"
A trooper stepped between him and Martha.
"Back up."
Voss's breathing grew louder.
"Those are protected juvenile records. You can't just pass them around."
Naomi's expression hardened.
"Then perhaps you should explain why they were printed during the execution of a search warrant."
He didn't answer.
I studied the list.
Something bothered me.
Not the names.
The dates.
Seven transfers had taken place on Sundays.
Four after midnight.
And six occurred without a corresponding intake entry.
That meant the children had supposedly been moved through county custody without an official record of arriving.
I looked at Naomi.
"I recognize the facility."
She turned.
"From where?"
"Financial documents included in a complaint referred to the appropriate investigative authorities."
Voss laughed bitterly.
"So that's it. You've been investigating me."
"I've been reviewing information sent to my court and ensuring allegations were directed to proper channels."
"Same thing."
"No."
I met his eyes.
"A judge doesn't become a prosecutor because she suspects wrongdoing."
He leaned toward me.
"Then why come here?"
I hesitated.
The honest answer was complicated.
I had arrived in Briar County on personal leave after receiving persistent complaints that local residents were being intimidated when they tried to report misconduct.
I had notified Chief Judge Mercer that I might be a witness to something relevant and that I intended to avoid official judicial action involving the county.
In retrospect, entering Voss's territory alone had been reckless.
I knew that now.
But I hadn't expected him to arrest me over a lunch I hadn't finished.
"I came to understand whether ordinary people could safely speak in this county."
Voss grinned.
"Well, did you get your answer?"
I looked toward the ambulance pulling away.
"Yes."
Naomi stepped closer.
"Judge, we need to get you to a secure location."
"Not before I give my statement."
"You can do that elsewhere."
I looked at Martha.
She was trembling so badly that the sheets in her hands shook.
"Is she safe?"
Naomi followed my gaze.
"We'll arrange protection for any cooperating witness whose circumstances warrant it."
Martha shook her head.
"You don't understand."
She looked at Voss.
"He's not the one in charge."
The room went silent.
Even Voss seemed surprised.
Naomi moved closer.
"Who is?"
Martha opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She glanced at the camera.
At the desk.
At the ceiling.
"Not here."
Voss began laughing.
"She's confused. She's been having memory problems."
Martha's face flushed.
"I haven't forgotten a thing, Dalton."
"Your husband was a drunk."
Her voice cracked.
"You told me he'd come home."
The sheriff stopped smiling.
Martha stepped toward him.
"You told me my husband was protecting our family."
Voss's jaw tightened.
"And then you gave me his wedding ring."
I watched her raise her left hand.
A man's gold band hung from a thin chain around her neck.
"Tell me where you buried him."
Voss stared at her.
Nobody moved.
Then Naomi spoke.
"Martha, come with me."
The older woman nodded.
But before she could take a step, her computer screen flashed.
A message appeared.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED QUIET.
Martha screamed.
Cole hurried toward the desk.
Another message appeared.
THE JUDGE WILL NOT LEAVE BRIAR COUNTY ALIVE.
Naomi immediately instructed her team to secure the computer and preserve its state.
Voss looked genuinely startled.
For one second, I believed his surprise.
Whoever was controlling the system had just threatened me in front of multiple law enforcement witnesses.
That was a mistake for someone trying to remain invisible.
Unless the threat itself was intended to draw attention.
My phone rang again.
Naomi looked at it.
"Chief Judge Mercer."
She asked the investigator holding my belongings to bring it to me after documenting the transfer.
I answered.
"Helen."
"Amara, tell me you're safe."
"I'm with Agent Price."
"Thank God."
Her voice sounded strained.
"Listen carefully. Federal law enforcement is aware of your detention. They're coordinating with the state authorities."
"Has something happened?"
A pause.
Then:
"Your chambers received a package this morning."
"What kind of package?"
"No return address. It contained a photograph."
"Of what?"
She inhaled sharply.
"You."
I glanced at the window.
"Where?"
"At the diner. Before the sheriff entered."
My stomach tightened.
That meant someone had watched me arrive.
Someone knew my identity before Voss placed me in handcuffs.
"What else?"
"The photograph had a message written on the back."
I closed my eyes.
"Tell me."
Helen's voice dropped.
"She wasn't supposed to survive Mercy House."
I stopped breathing.
Because I had never told Helen about Mercy House.
And the name awakened a memory I hadn't thought about in nearly thirty years.
A girl.
A locked room.
May you like
A fire in rural Georgia.
And a twelve-year-old child who'd disappeared while I stood helplessly on the other side of a fence.
