Chapter 8
The utility worker lingered near the desk for what felt like hours, shuffling papers and muttering complaints about disorganization. Mark’s muscles burned from the tense, unnatural posture, but he didn't dare make a sound. Finally, the man turned off the desk lamp, plunged the warehouse into near-total darkness, and slammed the side door shut behind him, locking it from the outside.
Mark waited until the rumble of the man's truck faded away down the gravel access road before letting out a ragged breath. He moved cautiously toward the emergency exit he had spotted earlier near the back wall, forced the panic bar, and spilled out into the cool night air.
When he reached his pickup truck, he collapsed into the driver's seat, his hands shaking as he pulled the stolen invoices from his jacket. The documents weren't just photocopies; they were original shipping manifests bearing the official seal of the Regional Disability Board, signed by Brenda Vance herself. It was an airtight conspiracy involving municipal officials and private brokers.
He drove straight back to Maple Street, the headlights cutting through the foggy valley mist. The house was dark and silent when he let himself in, but the light under Clara’s bedroom door was still on.
Mark pushed the door open gently. Clara was propped up in her bed, reading a worn paperback novel by the glow of a small bedside lamp. She looked up immediately, her sharp eyes reading the exhaustion and tension etched into her father's face.
"You found something, didn't you?" she asked softly, closing the book over her finger.
Mark walked over and sat on the edge of her mattress, placing the crumpled manifests on the quilt. "I found everything, Clara. Evelyn isn't just desperate for Leo. She’s running a ring that steals medical equipment and sells it for cash. Brenda Vance is in on it, too. They've been doing it for years."
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Clara stared at the documents, her expression hardening with a maturity far beyond her years. "Then we can't just go to Officer Miller. If Brenda is involved, local enforcement might be compromised. We need someone outside the county."
Mark nodded grimly. "I know a journalist at the state capital. An old friend from my union days who owes me a favor. We're going to blow this wide open."
