Page 32 of Doc
We reached the outskirts of the neighboring town just after midnight.I cut the engine two blocks from the county building, coasting to a stop in the shadow of an oak tree.Nova slid off the bike, her legs wobbly after the long ride.I caught her elbow to steady her, my hand lingering longer than necessary.
“You okay?”I studied her face in the dim light.
She nodded, adjusting her messenger bag.“Ready to find some answers.”
The county clerk’s office loomed ahead, dark and silent.I knew we were about to cross a line we could never erase -- breaking and entering, stealing government documents, committing felonies that would end my medical career if they caught us.
But watching Nova straighten her spine, I knew there was no turning back.Not for either of us.
Some risks were worth taking.Some people were worth risking everything for.
* * *
The county clerk’s office side door had a basic pin tumbler lock that took me less than thirty seconds to defeat.Nova watched with raised eyebrows as I manipulated the tension wrench and pick it with practiced efficiency, her expression shifting between surprise and something that might have been admiration.The lock gave with a satisfying click, and I eased the door open, listening for any electronic beep that might indicate an alarm system.Nothing but silence greeted us.Small-town budget constraints had just become our best ally.
“Is this one of those Army Medic skills?”Nova whispered as we slipped inside, her breath warm against my ear in the darkness.
“You’d be surprised what medics need to access in a hurry.”
The office air hung still and stale, tasting of paper dust and toner.Emergency exit signs cast red rectangles across the linoleum floor, providing just enough light to navigate without bumping into desks.I pulled a small tactical flashlight from my pocket, keeping the beam pointed downward to minimize its visibility from outside.Nova did the same, her light immediately seeking filing cabinets along the far wall.
“County records should be organized by department.Financial records for the sheriff’s department, court documents, property transactions -- they’ll all be filed separately.Police records might be here, but most likely those are kept at Town Hall or the local precinct.”
I nodded, impressed by her knowledge of bureaucratic organization.“I’ll check the computer systems.Might be faster to access digital archives.”
We separated, each focused on our own task.I watched Nova for a moment as she approached the filing cabinets, her movements deliberate and precise.She pulled a pair of thin cotton gloves from her bag before touching anything -- another detail that spoke to her mother’s thorough training.No fingerprints, no evidence of our presence.
I turned my attention to the clerk’s desk, finding the computer exactly where I expected -- central, with the best chair in the office.Small towns were predictable that way.The person with the most power got the most comfortable seat.I settled into it, powering up the machine while keeping the monitor brightness low.
The computer asked for a password, of course.I pulled a USB drive from my pocket -- courtesy of Wire, one of our more technically inclined brothers, who’d helped me with some medical database issues months ago.He’d given me this “just in case” tool without asking questions, understanding that sometimes access to records meant the difference between life and death in my line of work.I hadn’t mentioned that I might use it for breaking into government offices.
The program ran automatically, cycling through password combinations faster than the human eye could track.While it worked, I surveyed the office, taking in details I’d missed on first entry.Family photos on desks.A coffee maker with what looked like leftover coffee from the day before.A wall calendar marked with birthdays and vacation days.Normal people working normal jobs, most of them probably oblivious to any corruption happening right under their noses.
The computer chimed softly as it gained access.I turned back, navigating quickly through the file system.Years of medical record-keeping had taught me how to find what I needed in poorly organized databases.
Across the room, Nova worked with methodical precision, her flashlight beam moving systematically across file labels.She pulled folders with careful movements, examining the contents before either replacing them or setting them aside in a growing stack.The contrast between our methods struck me.We were different in almost every way, yet somehow in perfect sync.
“Doc,” she called softly, urgency in her voice.“I think I found something.”
I joined her at the filing cabinet, where she’d opened a folder labeledSpecial Disbursements -- County Judiciary.Inside were financial records showing monthly payments from companies with generic names -- Blue Ridge Holdings, Magnolia Investments, Southern Cross Enterprises -- to various county officials.The amounts varied but followed patterns.Five thousand to Judge Harmon on the third of each month.Thirty-five hundred to Deputy Chief Wallace split between the tenth and twenty-fifth.There had even been payments to Judge Carlton and Officer Mercer.
“Look at the dates.”She traced a series of transactions with her finger.“Each payment to Judge Harmon coincides with a case dismissal.”She pulled her mother’s notebook from her bag, flipping to a dog-eared page.“Every single one of these dates matches a case my mother flagged -- missing persons reports dismissed, charges dropped against the Blue Pines Motel owners, evidence lost in human trafficking investigations.”
The excitement in her voice was contagious, her body practically vibrated with vindication.This was it -- the evidence her mother had been piecing together.The puzzle was finally taking shape.
“These aren’t just random payments.”I examined the records more closely.“This is a payoff system.”
Nova nodded, already pulling more files.“And look at this -- property transfers.The Blue Pines Motel chain changed hands three times in two years, each time passing through one of these shell companies.”She flipped through her mother’s notebook again.“Mom noted each transfer coincided with new disappearances.”
While Nova continued gathering paper evidence, I returned to the computer, digging deeper into the digital records.The county system was archaic but comprehensive, storing everything from tax assessments to court filings.I searched for cases involving the names Nova had identified, finding a disturbing pattern.
“There are deleted case files.But they didn’t clean up properly.The system keeps header information even when the content is purged.”I scrolled through the entries, my medical training allowing me to process information quickly.“Dozens of cases marked ‘administratively closed’ with Judge Harmon’s digital signature.All involving young women, all with connections to the businesses your mother identified.”
Nova appeared at my shoulder, her breath catching as she scanned the screen.“That’s it.That’s what got her killed.She found the pattern, followed the money, connected the officials.Both county and city.”
I continued searching, finding more damning evidence with each query.Court records altered after filing.Evidence logs showing items checked in but never appearing in case files.Witness statements taken but never entered into record.
“They built a perfect system.Law enforcement identifies vulnerable girls, the motels provide temporary housing, the trucking companies move them out of state, and the courts ensure no one looks too closely.”
