Chapter 4 - The Vanishing Evidence
Mark stared at Detective Vance in total disbelief.
"No baseball bat?" Mark repeated softly.
His voice cracked with desperation.
"That's impossible!" Mark screamed, slamming his cuffed hands on the metal table.
"She was holding it right over my daughters' heads!" he yelled.
"Mr. Miller, sit down," Vance ordered firmly.
"The officers spent two hours sweeping your property," Vance explained.
"There were no weapons, no signs of forced entry, and no physical altercation recorded on the property," she added.
Mark slumped back into the cold chair.
His mind raced in a blur of terror.
Sarah was far more prepared than he could have ever imagined.
She had wiped the room clean in the minutes before the officers took him away.
Or worse, the officers who arrived were part of her plan.
"What about the camera?" Mark asked suddenly.
"The small wireless transmitter on the bookshelf?" he urged.
"We checked the shelf," Vance replied flatly.
"There was only a framed family photograph."
Mark closed his eyes as tears burned his skin.
He felt entirely trapped in a net drawn tightly around his neck.
"I need a lawyer," Mark whispered.
"I am officially requesting an attorney," Mark stated clearly.
Detective Vance gathered her folder from the table.
"A public defender will be assigned to you at your arraignment tomorrow morning," Vance said.
She walked out and the heavy steel door slammed shut.
The room returned to a suffocating silence.
Mark looked down at his trembling hands.
He had to get out of this cell.
He had to save Lily and Emma before Sarah completed whatever nightmare she had set in motion.
Hours dragged by like centuries.
Around midnight, the small observation hatch on the cell door slid open.
A guard looked inside.
"Miller, you have a legal visitor," the guard announced.
Mark jumped to his feet immediately.
"My attorney?" Mark asked.
"She says she represents you," the guard replied, unlocking the door.
Mark was escorted down a dimly lit hallway into a small private meeting room.
Sitting on the far side of the table was a woman in an elegant grey suit.
She had sharp eyes and blonde hair pinned neatly back.
Mark had never seen her before in his life.
"Who are you?" Mark asked as he sat down.
"My name is Victoria Sterling," the woman said in a low tone.
"I was sent here by someone who knows what Sarah is doing to you," she added.
Mark’s heart hammered against his ribs.
"Who sent you?" Mark demanded.
Victoria leaned forward across the table.
May you like
"Your late father's old business partner," Victoria whispered.
"And he wants you to know that your wife is not working alone."
