Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the System
"We have the video, Detective. Let's go arrest them right now!" I urged, standing up from the desk. "Let the whole world see who they truly are!"
"Slow down, Eleanor," Detective Vance warned, putting a steady hand on my shoulder. "Think about who your father is. Richard Vance has the entire California political elite in his back pocket. If we execute a standard arrest warrant right now, his high-priced corporate defense attorneys will have this video suppressed before the ink even dries on the booking sheet."
"Suppressed? How can they suppress absolute proof?" I asked, outraged.
"They will claim the video was manipulated, or they will claim you had a violent psychotic episode and demanded to be let out of the vehicle," Vance countered. "They will spin the narrative to make you look unstable, which plays directly into their ninety-day incompetence clause. We need to let them dig their own grave first."
"What exactly do you mean by that?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Go completely dark," the detective smiled coldly. "Let them think their plan worked perfectly. Let them tell their lies to the public while we build an airtight federal case behind the scenes."
I agreed to the plan. With the help of Mack and his extensive trucking network, Eli and I relocated quietly to a low-key apartment complex in Sacramento under an assumed digital alias. I took an under-the-table job at a small digital forensics firm, using my computer science degree to stay hidden. For three weeks, Richard and Victoria Vance believed we were gone forever. Then, they launched their public media campaign. I sat in my tiny kitchen, watching them on the local evening news. My mother held a silk handkerchief to her eyes, crying gracefully for the flashing cameras.
"We are absolutely heartbroken," my mother sobbed to the reporters. "Our beautiful daughter Eleanor has been struggling with severe mental instability for many months. She took our sweet grandson Eli and ran away into the night. We just want them to come home safely."
My father stood stoically beside her, adjusting his expensive suit jacket. "I am offering a fifty-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to their location," he announced to the cameras. "Eleanor, if you are watching this, please stop this madness. Let us help you."
"You miserable monsters," I spat at the television screen, my blood boiling.
The phone on the counter buzzed. It was Detective Vance. "Are you watching the news, Eleanor?" he asked.
May you like
"Yes," I answered, my voice shaking with rage. "They are setting the stage perfectly to claim that trust fund. They are telling the whole world that I am insane."
"Let them talk," Vance chuckled darkly. "I just obtained their personal cell phone records from the night of the incident. Your father made three separate phone calls to a private security contractor specializing in off-the-grid tracking. They aren't looking to rescue you, Eleanor. They are looking to make sure you never come back to dispute their claims. Keep your head down. The trap is almost ready."
