Chapter 3 - The Stranger on the Path
The woman stepping onto the manicured grass didn't look like an operative or a government bureaucrat. She wore a simple beige trench coat, sensible flats, and carried a worn canvas tote bag filled with groceries, yet Arthur instantly froze at the sight of her.
"Agent Miller," Arthur said, his voice dripping with forced casualness as he subtly shifted his weight to block Julian from her line of sight. "You’re a long way from the federal district office. This is a local municipal custody matter."
"Is that what we're calling state-sanctioned child trafficking these days?" Agent Miller asked calmly, stopping ten feet away. She didn't draw a weapon, but her posture was rigid and entirely focused. "Drop your hand from the boy's collar, Arthur. The district attorney's office signed the injunction twenty minutes ago."
"An injunction based on fabricated testimonies from disturbed minors," Arthur countered, though a bead of sweat rolled down his temple. "These children are wards of the Oakhaven Heritage Trust. Their placement is confidential."
"Their placement was bought with embezzled pension funds," Miller countered, taking another unhurried step forward. "And the Trust was dissolved this morning by order of a federal judge. Step away from the children, Arthur. This is your only warning."
Sharda grabbed Julian’s hand, her fingers cold as ice. "Is she telling the truth?" Julian whispered, his eyes darting between the stranger and Arthur.
"I don't know," Sharda whispered back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Nobody ever tells the truth in this park."
Arthur let out a dry, humorless laugh. He looked down at Julian, a strange, grim amusement playing on his lips. "You think she's here to save you, kid? You think a federal badge wipes away what your father signed away in 2021?"
Julian flinched as if struck. "My dad didn't sign anything. He was gone before the fire."
"Was he?" Arthur sneered, stepping back toward the shadow of the pavilion. "Ask Agent Miller who authorized the demolition permit for the old estate on Pine Street. Go ahead, ask her."
Miller’s calm facade cracked for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening visibly. "Don't listen to him, Julian. He's trying to manipulate you."
"Ask her!" Arthur barked, suddenly darting backward toward a waiting black sedan idling near the service road.
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Miller drew a sleek service weapon with practiced ease, but before she could fire a warning shot, Arthur threw a smoke canister onto the grass, bathing the playground structures in a thick, choking grey cloud.
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