Chapter 7 - The Fractured Alibi
Preston’s resistance crumbled in less than three minutes under the weight of cold, absolute terror. I kept him pinned until he stopped thrashing, his breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
“I... I don't know the whole story!” Preston choked out, his fingers clawing weakly at my sleeve. “My father... Arthur Caldwell... he told me when I turned eighteen that my real family died in a car crash when I was a toddler. He said he adopted me out of the system, gave me everything! I swear I didn't know about any kidnapping cover-up!”
“An adoption,” I murmured skeptically, keeping the pressure on his chest. “Or a purchased identity to replace a dead heir and keep a multi-million-dollar defense trust active. What about the night of the attack on my daughter, Nora? Who gave the order to bury her?”
“It wasn't me!” Preston sobbed, tears spilling down his cheeks. “It was Chad Kensington! His uncle is a federal district judge; Chad called him from the scene right after it happened. They said Nora was auditing a municipal contract code that tied Kensington Construction to an illegal zoning fraud. They wanted to shut her up permanently!”
I recorded every word on a secure micro-recorder hidden in my palm. The network of corruption wasn't just local; it was a tightly woven web of corporate crime, judicial protection, and deep-state identity laundering.
May you like
“You and your friends are going to learn what happens when you touch something you shouldn't,” I whispered, stepping back and letting him collapse gasping onto the mattress.
Before he could reach for his phone, I struck a precise pressure point on his neck, sending him into a deep, dreamless sleep.
