Chapter 4 - The Dissolution of Protection
The Westbridge precinct was completely transformed by noon. The local officers were gone, replaced by state police personnel who had taken over the dispatch lines and the administrative desks. Captain Ross’s name had already been scraped from the glass door of the commander's office, leaving nothing but a greasy residue where his authority used to sit.
I sat in the small conference room at the back of the station, reviewing the internal server logs with Sarah Collins, my deputy. The red light on the security network was blinking steadily now, indicating that all systems were functioning under state oversight.
"We found the deleted audio from the 911 dispatch, Evelyn," Sarah said, turning her laptop toward me. "It’s exactly as Eleanor said. She called from the hallway bathroom. You can hear Dana in the background shouting, 'Go ahead and call them, Eleanor! Ross runs this town. They’ll put you in a padded cell before they ever look at me.' And then you hear the first impact."
I closed my eyes for three seconds, letting the horror of that sound settle into my memory. It wasn't just evidence; it was a permanent record of the cruelty that had been allowed to fester in our absence.
"Where is the responding officer’s report?" I asked.
"Officer Miller gave a full statement," Sarah replied. "He admitted that Ross ordered him to falsify the intake form to read 'Domestic Disturbance / Unstable Subject.' Miller is cooperating fully with the State's Attorney. He’s agreed to testify against Ross and Dana in exchange for a suspended sentence on the misdemeanor charge."
The door opened, and Marcus Vance stepped in, holding a folder of bank records. "Evelyn, we just got the forensic financial pull on Michael and Dana’s joint accounts. They weren't just trying to get the house. They’ve already spent over eighty thousand dollars of Eleanor’s money using a forged power of attorney they created last November."
"An unauthorized withdrawal from a senior’s account over fifty thousand dollars is a Class 1 felony in this state," I said, my fingers tapping the table. "That carries a mandatory minimum of four years. No probation."
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"They’re looking at a combined total of twenty-five years if the judge runs the counts consecutively," Marcus said, sitting down across from me. "Michael's attorney is already asking for a proffer session. He wants to give up Dana’s family connections in the county zoning office to save himself from state prison."
"No deals for Michael," I said, looking Marcus dead in the eye. "He watched his mother bleed on the floor of his own kitchen and then helped his wife hide the weapon. He goes down with the ship."
