Chapter 8: The Arrest
Flores called me at 3:47 that afternoon.
"Hale is in custody," she said.
"The warrant was executed at his Philadelphia office at two o'clock.
His legal team filed for an emergency hearing within the hour.
The judge denied it."
I was sitting on Pete's back porch.
Emma was in the yard below, pushing a plastic truck through the grass, Bunny propped against the fence post watching.
"What did he say?" I asked.
"When?"
"When they arrested him.
Did he say anything?"
A brief pause.
"He said the evidence was fabricated.
That Claire had been working against him and had manufactured the records." Flores's voice was even.
"His attorney is going to argue that for the next two years.
It won't change what the records show."
"He's going to fight it."
"He's going to fight everything," she said.
"That's what men like Hale do.
But the drive has chain-of-custody documentation from Claire herself — timestamps, file logs, her own notes embedded in the metadata.
She anticipated that argument." Another pause.
"Your wife was very thorough, Mr.
Mercer."
Emma looked up from the yard and waved at me.
I raised my hand back.
"What about Nina Sorel?" I said.
"She's cooperating in exchange for consideration on the charges.
She's confirmed the full recruitment operation — how targets were selected, how identities were built, how the infiltrations were managed." Flores paused.
"She said she was told Emma was not to be h*rmed.
I'm telling you that because I think you'll want to know, and also because I want you to understand it doesn't change what she did."
"No," I said.
"It doesn't."
"She also said—" Flores stopped.
"This is off the record, Mr.
Mercer."
"All right."
"She said Emma reminded her of her own daughter.
That toward the end, she found it difficult." A pause.
"I'm not sharing that to generate sympathy.
I'm sharing it because it may come up in proceedings and I'd rather you hear it from me."
I watched Emma drag the truck in a slow circle through the grass.
"She locked my daughter in a laundry room," I said.
"I know."
"She told a four-year-old that her mother d*ed because of her."
"I know." Flores's voice was quiet.
"The charges reflect that."
We stayed on the line for a moment without speaking.
"Is there anything else you need from me today?" I asked.
"Not today.
We'll be in touch about the proceedings.
It may be several months before the preliminary hearings." She paused one final time.
"Mr.
Mercer — what your wife did took real courage.
I want you to know that we understand that."
May you like
I looked at the folded note in my shirt pocket.
"She always did," I said.
