Page 27 of Don't Leave Me
There was a video of a news anchor providing coverage. I hit play.
“A search warrant was granted to federal agents who found video evidence of sexual acts with underage girls. Apparently, Sanderson would video himself in bed with these girls so he could watch the sex tapes at a later time.”
I smiled. That last part wasn’t true. But I knew there was video evidence.
Marc had done it. He’d swung at Evan and he hadn’t missed. Instead, he’d knocked him out.
* * *
Three weeks later
Southern District of New York Courthouse
Marc
I sat on a bench overlooking the courthouse to watch the scene unfold. Reporters had been camped out all along the steps since before I got here. Today was Sanderson’s arraignment. He was sure to plead not guilty. However, a week ago, he’d made an attempt to flee the country, which had failed. Because I wouldn’t let him out of my sight the second he posted bail. One night, I followed Sanderson out of the city, to a remote airport in the Hamptons, where I knew one of his larger campaign donors kept a private jet. As soon as I knew where he was headed, I alerted the FBI. Two agents intercepted him before he could take off. From that point on, he was given an ankle monitor. Which meant it was likely the judge was going to overturn bail.
Evan Sanderson was going to jail today. With the preponderance of evidence against him, it was doubtful he would ever leave prison alive.
In the end, the takedown had all been handled by Dean. He’d examined the contents of the thumb drive, and agreed there was enough evidence on it alone to nail Sanderson to the wall. Once Dean had committed to doing it, we’d worked out a story that made sense.
An ex-con with a grudge wasn’t a good source for where the information had come from. Instead, Dean took that burden on himself.
His story: Landen had sent a letter to Benfield before his suicide. As a long-time enemy, Benfield had dismissed the letter out of turn. Only recently, upon cleaning up old paperwork, had he stumbled on it again. This time, realizing it had been sent immediately before Landen’s death, Benfield opened the letter to discover the thumb drive inside. He reported it to FBI agents at the New York field office, which led to the issuance of search warrants for Sanderson’s homes in Manhattan, Harborview and East Hampton.
A video camera was found hidden in Sanderson’s bedroom in the Harborview house. On it, evidence of several acts of sexual assault against minor girls. Three of the victims were willing to testify against Sanderson.
A tight noose, from which all his money would not help him escape.
His family, who must have had some understanding of what he was, quickly disowned him.
My phone rang and I immediately answered. “Dean, I’m waiting for him to show up now. I want to see the fucker walk into the courthouse, knowing he’s not walking out.”
“Sorry, Marc. You’re not going to get that opportunity. Evan Sanderson hanged himself last night. He’s dead.”
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it. As if the phone was responsible for the bad news, and not Benfield.
“Marc? You still there? Marc?”
I put the phone back to my ear. “That fucking coward. Landen, too, for that matter.”
“Cowards and weak individuals. They tend to be the type to prey on young women. But it’s over now. Behind you. What are you going to do next?”
I didn’t know. I had put blinders on to accomplish this mission. I hadn’t thought about Florida. I hadn’t thought about who was in Florida. I had thought only of Evan Sanderson and what I needed to do to end him as a threat, and ruin his life.
I would have been satisfied with prison for life. A quick death was too easy for him. But there was nothing to be done about it, which is why I now had to think about what came next.
“I have an idea,” I said, vaguely.
“Yeah, well, me too. Given everything that’s happened, I spoke to Entwhistle. He thinks he might be able to get your record expunged.”
I snorted. “What’s the point? I already served the time.”
“The point is, on job applications you’ll no longer have to check the box that you committed a felony. He can’t promise anything, but he’s going to try. Figured maybe there can be some justice for you. And remember, you need a job, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Dean. For all of it.”
“Happy to take the scumbag off the street. In fact, so happy I thought I might track down these disgusting sex clubs and see if I can’t find a way to put a few more dirtbags in jail.”
“Good luck.”
“Don’t need it. I’m a billionaire.”
He ended the call. The news must have broken, because, as I watched, all the reporters who’d been camped out immediately started to scramble.
My work was done. My task was complete. Suddenly, I had this longing for a home that didn’t exist. Not really. That’s when I knew what had to come next. I needed to see George, and he needed to know that the girl he’d basically raised, was alive.
