Chapter 6 - The Confession on Tape
Major Vance’s tablet didn't just record audio; the built-in directional array captured every frequency, sub-harmonic, and spatial reflection in the room with forensic clarity.
Wade Cain’s face lost its color in three seconds flat. The arrogant, untouchable posture of a man who had owned the county for thirty years dissolved as he stared at the small blinking red light on Vance’s sleeve.
"You're recording," Wade whispered, his voice dropping from a booming command to a rough, raspy rasp.
"Every word, Mr. Cain," Major Vance replied smoothly, tapping the screen to confirm the file had already been mirrored to a secure cloud server at Fort Bragg. "That statement regarding Julian Bennett’s vehicle accident—specifically noting details that were never released to the public or listed in Sheriff Harper’s original report—has been logged as a verbal deposition under federal investigation docket seventy-four."
Travis stepped forward, panic finally breaking through his privileged veneer. "Dad, don't listen to them! They're tricking you—they don't have a warrant for that!"
"Shut up, Travis," Wade snarled, his hand shooting out to shove his son back against the cigarette machine. He turned his cold, calculating eyes back toward me, the mask of polite intimidation replaced by pure, desperate malice. "You think a smart mouth and a pocket recorder are going to tear down what I built here? The district attorney golfs with me every Thursday. The state judge is my cousin. You've got nothing that stands up in a local court."
"This isn't a local court, Wade," I said, walking around the end of the counter and stopping two feet from him. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't need to. "This is a federal counter-intelligence and racketeering sweep. Your cousin the judge can't sign an injunction against the United States Department of Defense."
Sheriff Harper let out a low groan, sliding entirely down the wall until he sat on the checkered floor tiles, burying his face in his hands.
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Mayor Brooks tried to maintain her composure, her fingernails digging deep into the fabric of her tweed purse. "Wade... what did he mean by that? What did you do six years ago?"
Wade didn't answer her. He kept his gaze locked on me, his breathing shallow and rapid.
