Chapter 8: The Report That Disappeared
I called Holloway at nine forty-three.
She answered on the first ring.
"Travis Vance was in the county records building tonight," I said.
"Twenty-two minutes.
After an eleven-minute call with his father."
A pause.
"The incident report."
"That's what I think."
"How did you—" She stopped.
"Your people."
"They're watching.
Like we agreed."
Another pause, longer this time.
"If that report has been altered or removed, it's evidence tampering on top of everything else." I heard her moving, a door closing.
"I need to get to the county clerk before the building opens tomorrow morning.
If there's a digital record of who accessed what tonight, I need it before anyone else does."
"Can you move that fast?"
"I already have a federal subpoena template open," she said.
"Give me two hours." She paused.
"Caleb.
This is good.
I know it doesn't feel like it.
But every move Dale Vance makes right now is another count.
He can't stop himself.
Men like him never can."
"He came into my son's room today."
"I know.
I have the witness statements from Laura and Ethan.
That's count three on the obstruction charge." Her voice was steady, deliberate.
"I want you to understand something.
When we arrest Dale Vance, I want it to be so airtight that no attorney in the state can find a seam.
That means I need one more day."
"One day."
"Maybe less.
The U.S.
Attorney is reviewing the video tonight.
If he signs off in the morning, we move before noon."
I stood in the empty hospital corridor.
"What about the judge?
Prewitt?"
"Prewitt is a separate matter, but it's moving in parallel.
The gag order he signed this morning is going to be the thing that finally opens that investigation formally." She paused.
"He called in a favor for Dale Vance and handed us a gift."
"He didn't know that."
"They never do."
I ended the call and stood for a moment in the quiet hallway.
Down the corridor, the night shift moved through its routines.
A nurse checked a chart.
An orderly pushed a cart.
The ordinary machinery of a place where people came when everything else had failed.
I went back to Ethan's room.
Laura was awake, sitting in the chair with a book open in her lap that she wasn't reading.
She looked up when I came in.
"Anything?" she said.
"Tomorrow," I said.
"Maybe sooner."
She nodded and looked back at the book.
Ethan was asleep.
His breathing was slow and even.
The monitors beside him made their quiet sounds.
I sat in the chair on the other side of his bed and watched his face.
He looked younger when he was asleep.
He always had.
When he was small, I used to stand in the doorway of his room at night and watch him sleep and think about all the things I'd walked away from to be in that doorway.
I never regretted it.
Not once.
I thought about Dale Vance standing in this room that afternoon.
The performance of it.
The slow walk, the badge forward, the smile that wasn't a smile.
*Nobody's coming.*
That was what he'd said to Ethan on the ground.
I looked at my son's face.
He was wrong about that.
My phone buzzed.
Garrett: *Travis Vance just left his apartment.
Headed toward the highway.
Mack is on him.*
I typed back: *Stay with him.
Don't intervene unless he moves toward a witness.*
Three minutes passed.
Then: *He stopped at a gas station on Route 9.
Making a call.
Caleb — Curtis Webb's house is four miles up that road.*
I was already standing.
I typed: *Hold position.
I'm calling Holloway.*
Holloway picked up before I finished dialing.
"Travis Vance is on Route 9," I said.
"Four miles from Curtis Webb."
"I'm calling the state police," she said immediately.
"Do not let your people engage."
"Holloway—"
"I mean it, Caleb.
If your people touch him, everything we have gets complicated.
State police can do a wellness check on Webb.
Legitimate.
Clean."
I stood in the hallway with the phone pressed to my ear.
"Make it fast," I said.
"Already dialing," she said.
I waited.
Two minutes later, Garrett sent a single message.
*State police unit just turned onto Route 9.
Travis Vance pulled a U-turn.
He's heading back toward town.*
I let out a slow breath.
Then one more message from Garrett.
*He knows someone is watching him.
He just figured it out.*
I stared at the screen.
If Travis Vance knew he was being watched, he would tell his father.
And if Dale Vance knew the perimeter was closing—
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
The voice on the other end was Dale Vance's.
"I don't know who you are," he said.
"But I know what you're doing.
And I want you to understand something." His voice was completely calm.
"I have friends in this county that go back forty years.
Judges.
Commissioners.
Men who owe me things they don't want anyone to know about." A pause.
"Whatever you think you've built tonight, I can dismantle it by morning."
I said nothing.
"Walk away," he said.
"Take your family.
Let this go.
I'll make sure the boy gets the best care this county can provide.
You have my word."
I looked through the window of Ethan's room.
"Your word," I said.
"My word."
"You modified those rounds," I said.
"You came prepared."
The silence lasted two seconds.
"Walk away," he said again.
But something in his voice had changed.
A fraction.
The way a man's voice changes when he realizes the person on the other end of the line already knows more than they should.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Sheriff," I said.
I ended the call.
He knew now.
He didn't know how much I knew, or who was behind me, or how far the net had already been cast.
May you like
But he knew it was real.
And that meant tomorrow was going to move fast.
