Chapter 3 - The Cold Night Air of Maple Grove
The Maple Grove night air hit me like a splash of ice water.
I walked down the paved driveway, leaving the warm, glowing windows of my parents' house behind. The suburban street was dead quiet, lined with neatly manicured lawns and identical colonial-style homes. It was the kind of neighborhood where everyone knew everyone else's business, or at least the version of everyone's business they were willing to display on their front porches.
My phone vibrated in my blazer pocket.
I pulled it out expecting a scathing text from my mother or a confused demand for an explanation from Ryan.
Instead, the screen lit up with a call from Marcus Vance, my senior editor at the Chicago Chronicle.
At 9:15 on a Friday night, Marcus only called for one reason.
"Vance," I answered, swiping to accept.
"Emily, where are you?" Marcus’s voice was clipped, background noise clattering through the receiver—the familiar, frantic symphony of the newsroom: ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and raised voices.
"I’m in Indiana. Visiting family. What’s going on?"
"Get back to Chicago tonight," Marcus said without preamble. "The federal injunction on the police body-cam footage we filed three weeks ago? Judge Harrison just signed the release order thirty minutes ago."
My steps slowed on the pavement. I stared across the dark, empty street at a neighbor’s glowing porch light. "Harrison signed it? Tonight? After hours?"
"Not just signed it," Marcus continued, excitement bleeding into his tone. "He attached an addendum chew-out memo chewing out the municipal police department for 'bad faith obstruction of public transparency.' It’s a landmark ruling, Em. It blows the whole investigation wide open. But there's a catch."
"What catch?"
"The department is holding a midnight press conference to contest the scope of the release. They’re claiming our reporting relied on 'unverified leaks from compromised administrative sources.'" Marcus paused. "They’re trying to discredit the sourcing of the articles. Specifically, they’re targeting the financial tracking records you pulled from the city clerk's office."
My mind raced. The financial records were rock-solid. I had spent three weeks cross-referencing municipal budget allocations with internal department purchases.
"They’re bluffing," I said firmly. "Those records are public domain."
"They’re not just bluffing, Emily. They’ve subpoenaed the reporter of record to verify the document chain under oath at a special federal magistrate hearing first thing Monday morning," Marcus said. "And guess who the presiding magistrate is for the emergency weekend docket?"
A cold knot formed in my stomach. "Who?"
May you like
"Judge Harrison."
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