Page 114 of Borrowed Pain
"She spent the night working with federal forensic accountants to unlock digital evidence she's been protecting. She created sophisticated encryption protocols that required her personal authorization to access."
Marcus stirred from his makeshift bed on the visitor couch. "Agent Andrews, what's Dr. Hendricks's legal exposure for her cooperation?"
"Significant. Obstruction of justice, accessory charges, and conspiracy allegations. Federal prosecutors are offering reduced sentencing in exchange for complete testimony, but she's facing serious prison time."
The weight of Patricia's sacrifice was clear. She was trading her freedom to expose the network that had destroyed her son and countless others.
Andrews had another message to deliver. "Mr. Ashcroft, she specifically requested that you understand something. She says the lighthouse still stands."
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. Dr. Humphries's name appeared on the display.
"Agent Andrews, Dr. Humphries is calling. Can you hold while I conference her in?"
I answered the second call and merged the conversations. "Dr. Humphries, you're speaking with Agent Andrews and the McCabe family."
"Mr. Ashcroft, I'm calling from Johns Hopkins with urgent developments. Academic institutions nationwide are issuing statements condemning Meridian's corruption of legitimate trauma research."
"How extensive is the academic response?" Marcus asked.
"Unprecedented. Mayo Clinic, UCLA trauma center, Harvard Medical School, University of Washington—every institution that Meridian claimed as validation is publicly disavowing any connection to their protocols."
Miles leaned forward. "Dr. Humphries, what happens to trauma survivors harmed by Meridian's protocols? What recovery resources are available?"
"That's why I'm calling. We're establishing a victim assistance network—legitimate trauma specialists who can provide therapeutic support for people damaged by Meridian's systematic abuse. Dr. McCabe, your professional expertise would be invaluable to that effort."
I watched Miles process the implications. He'd survived Meridian's torture and could help others heal from similar trauma. His experience would provide credibility that purely academic authorities couldn't offer.
"I'd be honored to help," Miles said. "After medical recovery."
Matthew appeared in the doorway carrying coffee and the morning newspaper. The Seattle Times headline dominated the front page: "Federal Raids Target Medical Fraud Network Accused of Human Experimentation."
"Every major news outlet is covering the story," Matthew said. "Meridian's crimes are becoming national news."
My phone buzzed with a text message from an unknown number:
Mr. Ashcroft, this is Patricia Hendricks. Federal agents are allowing me to send one message. The lighthouse still stands, and the light finally reaches the shore. Thank you for helping me honor Tobias's sacrifice. - P
I showed the message to Miles, but kept it between us. Patricia was completing the work of the man she loved while accepting the personal cost of exposing their collaboration.
"Agent Andrews," I said, "please tell Patricia Hendricks I received her message."
"Confirmed. She wanted you to know that David is entering a legitimate treatment facility that specializes in recovery from psychological manipulation. He'll receive genuine therapy instead of the damage Meridian inflicted."
Ma held Miles's hand with maternal satisfaction. "Your ordeal helped expose all of this. You survived and fought back so they couldn't hurt anyone anymore."
Miles collapsed back against his pillows. "It's so surreal. Yesterday, they trapped me in a basement, and now, the entire network is collapsing."
"Today the system worked," I said. "Not quickly, but eventually. Good people fought corruption when they understood what was really happening."
Chapter twenty-three
Miles
Seattle's United States Courthouse smelled of furniture wax and varnish. Rowan and I sat in the gallery, the heat of his body steadying me on the hard wooden bench. Patricia Hendricks stood at the defendant's table, wrists bound in cuffs, the nickel gleaming against the navy of her blazer.
The judge delivered a verdict: guilty of obstruction, conspiracy, and accessory. Eighteen months. His gavel cracked once, sharp as bone.
For a moment, Patricia held very still. Then her eyes lifted, searching, and landed on me. She offered a faint smile.
