Chapter 7

The county investigator's name was Deputy Mireles, a stocky man in a rumpled suit with a badge clipped to his belt and a notebook that had seen better days. He'd been in the building for a property dispute, but when the clerk found him in the back office and whispered something that made his eyebrows rise, he walked into the records room with the look of a man who smelled gasoline near a lit match.

"Mr. Mercer," he said, offering a hand. "The clerk says you have some evidence of — a family matter that touches on criminal conduct?"

Elijah shook his hand. "Six years ago, I reported my daughter kidnapped. She wasn't. She was hidden in plain sight for six years to protect her from a medical research entity that wanted her blood." He held up the subpoena. "This is a federal order, dated before her birth, listing two children — one deceased, one born six months later — as subjects for compelled biological sampling."

Deputy Mireles's eyes scanned the paper, then widened. He looked at Avery, standing on her own two feet behind her father.

"Ma'am," he said to Avery, "are you the subject listed in this document?"

"Yes, sir," Avery said, her voice steady. "I'm Avery Mercer. I'm nine years old. For six years, I was told to sit in a wheelchair so nobody would know I could walk. I'm not sitting anymore."

The deputy's face was unreadable. He looked at Ruth.

"Ma'am, your name is on this confession. It says you orchestrated the removal of a child from a residence six years ago. Is that true?"

Ruth's chin lifted. "It was to protect her —"

"So yes," Mireles said, making a note. "And this confession — it was voluntary?"

"It was dictated by her dying brother-in-law," Isaac said. "My father. She signed it. I witnessed it."

Mireles looked at Isaac. "And you are?"

"Isaac Mercer. The father's brother." He swallowed. "I knew. I've known for six years. I helped hide the evidence."