Chapter 7 - The Net Closes
The morning light did not bring warmth to Cedar Hollow; it brought a cold, gray fog that hung low over the hills.
Instead of going to the local police, Evelyn and Caleb had driven through the night to the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in Richmond. They knew that Preston’s influence over the local sheriff, Bobby Vance, was too strong. A local arrest warrant could easily be delayed, destroyed, or "misplaced."
At 8:00 AM, Caleb sat in a sterile, white-walled interview room, flanked by Evelyn and a seasoned FBI Special Agent named Sarah Vance—no relation to the local sheriff, though she knew of him all too well.
"This is extraordinary," Agent Vance said, her eyes fixed on the laptop screen where the video had just finished playing for the third time. "The statute of limitations on murder never expires, and this... this is a confession written in blood. But more than that, it proves a cover-up by local authorities."
"Can you arrest him?" Caleb asked, his voice raw.
"We can, and we will," Agent Vance said, closing her notebook. "But we have to do this carefully. Preston Mercer is a powerful man with deep connections. If he gets wind of federal involvement, he has the resources to flee the country. He has a private plane registered in Richmond."
"He's expecting me back at the house," Caleb said suddenly. "He thinks I'm still in town, trying to decide what to do with the card. If I go back... if I play the part of the scared kid... I can keep him there until you arrive."
"No, Caleb, it's too dangerous," Evelyn protested, grabbing his arm. "He had a gun last night. He will kill you if he feels cornered."
"He won't kill me in broad daylight at his own estate," Caleb reasoned, looking at Agent Vance. "Not with the town looking at him. If I go to the house, he’ll try to negotiate. It will buy you the time you need to get the federal warrant and set up the perimeter."
Agent Vance studied Caleb for a long moment. She saw the determination in his eyes—the same eyes of the woman who had died trying to save him.
"Alright," Vance said. "But you wear a wire. We will have a surveillance team disguised as utility workers at the edge of the property. The moment we hear any sign of physical threat, we move in. No exceptions."
Two hours later, Caleb stood at the gates of the Mercer estate. The rain had stopped, leaving the brick mansion glistening in the pale morning sun. He felt the small, tape-bound transmitter pressed against his ribs, its tiny microphone hidden beneath his collar.
He walked up the stone steps and pushed the heavy oak doors open.
The house was silent, smelling of stale champagne and expensive wax.
"Dad?" Caleb called out, his voice echoing in the grand foyer.
"In the library, Caleb," Preston’s voice returned, calm and steady.
Caleb walked down the hall, his heart rate spiking but his face remaining a mask of calm. He pushed the library door open.
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Preston sat in a leather armchair by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand. He had changed into a fresh suit, his hair perfectly combed. On the table beside him lay a thick manila envelope and a passport.
"I knew you'd come back," Preston said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. "Sit down. Let's talk like men."
