Chapter 12: Sanctuary at the Chronicle
The white delivery van navigated the labyrinth of wet, empty downtown streets before pulling up beside the loading dock of the City Chronicle building. The towering brick structure stood like a monolith against the gray pre-dawn sky, its lit windows signaling that the newsroom never truly slept.
Hank cut the engine and twisted around in his seat. "This is as far as I go, Mrs. Vance. The loading dock elevator takes you straight up to the investigative desk on the fourth floor. Ask for Sarah Jenkins. Show her the envelope Marcus gave you."
Clara nodded, gratitude tightening her throat. "Thank you, Hank. For everything."
"Just make sure that monster doesn't win," Hank replied gruffly, popping the rear doors open from the inside.
Clara stepped out into the steady drizzle, holding Lily tightly in her arms. The industrial elevator ride to the fourth floor felt agonizingly slow, the cable humming a low, mechanical note. When the doors finally slid open, Clara stepped into a chaotic landscape of buzzing fluorescent lights, ringing desk phones, and journalists huddled over glowing computer screens, smelling strongly of stale coffee and newsprint.
She scanned the room until she saw a woman in her late forties with sharp glasses and hair pulled back in a messy bun, typing furiously at a terminal beneath a placard reading INVESTIGATIVE DESK.
Clara walked up to the desk, her maroon dress stained with mud at the hem, her hair coming loose from its pins. She placed the manila envelope down firmly on top of a stack of reference books.
Sarah Jenkins stopped typing, looked up over her glasses, and took in Clara’s disheveled appearance, the sleeping child in her arms, and the white bandage on Lily's forehead. Sarah’s eyes narrowed with professional instinct.
"Can I help you?" Sarah asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.
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"My name is Clara Vance," Clara said, her voice ringing clear and steady above the noise of the newsroom. "My husband is Julian Vance. And I have the documents you need to prove he murdered Arthur Pendelton and laundered fifty million dollars through the city zoning board."
Sarah stared at Clara for three seconds—three long seconds where the entire newsroom seemed to hold its breath. Then, Sarah reached out, pulled the manila envelope toward her, and slid it open.
