Chapter 9 - The Writ at Dawn
The fluorescent lights of Sarah Vance’s office hummed with a flat, persistent vibration. I dropped the folder of photographs and handwritten timestamps onto Sarah’s desk.
"You went back out there," she said. It wasn't a question.
"I had to confirm it," I said. "Pine Ridge isn't a treatment center. It's a holding facility. They've got Elena listed under a maiden name that hasn't existed in ten years. No visitors allowed without Richard's direct sign-off. If we wait for standard discovery motions next week, he'll move her again before the judge even signs the subpoena."
"Marcus, listen to me. If you take matters into your own hands—if you try to pull her out of there yourself—you’ll hand Richard everything he needs on a silver platter."
"I'm not talking about breaking in," I said. "I'm talking about the law. A writ of habeas corpus bypasses the normal waiting periods if there's imminent danger of unlawful detention. We have the timestamps. We have the facility logs. And we have the financial trail showing Richard funneling foundation funds into private psychiatric retainers."
Sarah reached out and finally pulled the folder toward her. After a long minute, she closed the folder with a soft thud.
"This is enough for an emergency writ," she admitted. "It’s aggressive, and a judge is going to look twice at a petition filed at two in the morning, but the paper trail on those funds is clean. It shows intent to conceal." She reached for her desk phone. "Let's get Sheriff Vance on the line. If we're going to execute this writ at dawn, we need county backup."
"He's in," Sarah said after the call. "But once those cruiser lights flash at the gates, there’s no turning back. Richard will throw every dollar and every high-priced attorney he has at us."
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"Let him try," I said.
