Chapter 4 - The Housekeeper’s Shadow
“What is the meaning of this?” Gregory shouted, jabbing a finger toward the nearest soldier. “You can’t detain private citizens!”
“Under federal directive, until local corruption is cleared, nobody leaves this facility,” I stated, walking slowly toward them.
Patricia’s face flushed with genuine fury. “You are abusing your uniform, Gardner! You’ll be court-martialed before the week is out!”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again. Another text from the unknown number. This time, it wasn't a photo. It was an address: 442 Oakridge Lane. The carriage house. Hurry before they burn it.
I looked at Nicholas. His pupils dilated for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression of absolute panic. He knew that address.
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“Abigail, stay with the medical detail,” I commanded, turning to one of my trusted MPs. “Captain, secure this room. If anyone tries to enter, including local law enforcement, detain them.”
I didn't wait for their response. I turned on my heel and walked briskly out of the hospital toward my vehicle. The night air was biting, but my blood was boiling. The housekeeper hadn't just vanished; she was hiding physical evidence at their secondary estate, and the Ferguson family was already mobilizing to destroy it.
