Chapter 8 - Thirty Seconds of Darkness
Cameron cried out when the room went black.
Gabriel moved before the sound ended.
He pulled his son down behind the defense table, using his own body as a shield without pressing against the injured dressing.
“Stay low.”
Chairs scraped across the floor.
Someone ran.
The bailiff shouted for everyone to remain still.
A door opened somewhere to the left.
Then another slammed.
Gabriel heard a shoe strike wood, a breath close by, and the soft metallic snap of something being dropped.
Thirty seconds later, emergency lights flickered on.
The courtroom returned in dim red-gray shadows.
Principal Holloway was gone.
The side door stood open.
The sealed evidence bag containing the recovered storage device remained on the clerk’s table.
The memory card did not.
Agent Benton looked down at the empty forensic tray.
“Do not move.”
No one obeyed immediately.
Richard Dunmore shouted, “Holloway ran.”
The bailiff and state trooper disappeared through the side door.
Patrick Sloan checked inside his jacket.
Walter Keene stared under the plaintiffs’ table.
Voss demanded a head count.
Gabriel ignored all of them.
He checked Cameron’s face, arms, and breathing.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Cameron nodded too quickly.
Elena crawled toward them.
Gabriel held up one hand.
“Stay where you are until the room is cleared.”
Pain crossed her face, but she obeyed.
Agent Benton crouched near the clerk’s table.
She found a small black transmitter beneath the edge of the wood.
“Remote power interruption,” she said.
Judge Hale remained behind the bench, one hand near the emergency button.
“You believe someone planned this?”
Benton held up the transmitter.
“I believe someone expected evidence to reach this courtroom.”
Gabriel looked at the open side door.
“Holloway didn’t improvise his escape.”
“No.”
“Then the person controlling him is still ahead of us.”
The trooper returned alone.
“Holloway accessed the judges’ corridor. We found his jacket by the service stairs.”
“Vehicle?” Benton asked.
“Unknown.”
The bailiff came back carrying a broken access badge.
“He used this to open the secured exit.”
Judge Hale recognized it.
“That badge belongs to a court maintenance supervisor.”
The courtroom settled into a new kind of fear.
This was no longer a school scandal contained inside one town.
Someone had entered the courthouse system.
Someone had placed a transmitter beneath the clerk’s desk.
Someone had edited Sofia’s message after she sent it.
Benton ordered all phones collected and all exits secured.
Richard objected until she showed him a federal preservation order.
Patrick Sloan remained strangely quiet.
Gabriel noticed.
During the blackout, Patrick had not moved toward the door. He had not shouted for his son. He had checked inside his jacket.
“What were you looking for?” Gabriel asked.
Patrick’s eyes hardened. “Nothing.”
“You reached into your coat when the lights came on.”
“My medication.”
“Show it.”
Voss stepped in. “Captain Rivera has no authority to interrogate my client.”
Benton looked at Patrick. “I do.”
Patrick hesitated.
Then he removed a silver pill case from his inner pocket.
He placed it on the table.
Benton opened it.
Inside were two tablets and a tiny folded slip of paper.
Patrick’s face changed when he saw it.
“I didn’t put that there.”
Benton unfolded the paper.
A number was written in block digits.
214-5-17.
Cameron stared.
“Two-fourteen is my locker.”
Judge Hale looked at the remaining numbers.
“Five and seventeen?”
Gabriel’s mind moved through possibilities.
Five injured seniors.
Seventeen archived incidents.
Or dates.
May seventeenth.
Cameron touched his jacket pocket.
His eyes widened.
“Dad.”
Gabriel turned.
Cameron pulled out a small brass key.
It matched the key found in Holloway’s envelope.
“I didn’t put this here.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Gabriel took the key with a folded tissue.
A white sticker was attached to it.
Not Locker 214.
STORAGE 5-17.
Agent Benton looked at Patrick’s paper.
The numbers matched.
“Someone planted the key on Cameron during the blackout,” she said.
Gabriel’s gaze swept the room.
“Who was close enough?”
Cameron looked toward the floor beside his chair.
A faint streak of dark mud crossed the polished wood.
It led from the side door.
Past Holloway’s abandoned path.
Directly behind Cameron’s seat.
Then it stopped beneath Elena’s coat.
May you like
Cameron’s voice barely carried.
“Mom, what’s under your shoe?”
