Chapter 10 - The House Next Door
The morning sun had risen higher, casting long, stark shadows across the manicured lawns of the quiet suburban street, but the neighborhood felt like a graveyard.
Elena walked out of the front door of her house, the heavy aluminum hard drive clutched securely in her tactical vest pocket.
Maya followed closely behind her, flanked by two neutral tactical agents who offered protection rather than restraint.
Victor Vance trailed a few steps behind, his phone pressed firmly to his ear as he barked low-voiced orders to an unseen superior.
Sheriff Thomas and Deputy Miller were being led toward an unmarked transport van parked by the curb.
Elena stopped at the edge of the asphalt, turning her gaze toward the property immediately adjacent to hers—Number 44.
The house looked identical to her own: white siding, manicured shrubs, a neat Honda sedan parked in the driveway.
Except for one glaring detail.
The curtains on the second-floor window were pulled back just an inch, and a small, red blinking light of a stationary camera lens was visible in the glass.
"They never left," Maya whispered, her voice tight with terror as she clutched Elena's sleeve. "That's where the monitors were. That's where he watched me eat, sleep, and cry every single day."
Elena’s jaw tightened. She reached for her sidearm, unholstering it with a smooth, practiced motion.
"Agent Vance, do not engage," Victor commanded sharply, ending his phone call and stepping into her path. "That property belongs to a sitting federal judge. Entering without a warrant signed by the Attorney General is an act of treason."
"A federal judge who was running a human containment black site from a suburban cul-de-sac?" Elena retorted, her eyes locked on Victor's face. "Move, Victor. Or I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice right alongside Sterling."
Before Victor could respond, the front door of Number 44 slowly swung open with a soft, ominous creak.
An elderly man in a neatly pressed cardigan stepped out onto the porch.
He held a silver teacup in one hand, his posture perfectly upright despite his advanced age, and smiled warmly at the federal agents assembled on the lawn.
May you like
"Good morning, Claire," Judge Robert Sterling said softly, taking a calm sip of his tea. "I was wondering when you'd finally come over for a cup."
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