Chapter 8 - THE ABANDONED FACTORY
The old Dennis Manufacturing east facility had been closed for five years.
Dad had refused to sell it because my grandfather built the original structure in 1968.
Reagan hated that place.
Carter had spent summers there working inventory as punishment whenever he got into trouble.
And according to Hannah's hidden message, somebody was holding her inside.
Wynn wanted SWAT.
Dad said no.
“Hale will have someone watching police channels.”
Nora agreed.
“We need independent federal involvement.”
She contacted an assistant U.S. attorney she trusted.
But without current proof Hannah was inside, getting a tactical team would take time.
We didn't have time.
So at 11:20 p.m., Wynn, Dad, and I entered through the rear loading yard.
Nora remained outside with federal agents en route.
The warehouse smelled like rust and oil.
Wynn carried his service pistol.
Dad carried nothing.
I had a flashlight and three years of anger.
We heard voices upstairs.
A man's voice.
Then Hannah.
“Go to hell.”
Alive.
We moved toward the stairs.
Wynn whispered, “Two men minimum.”
Dad touched my shoulder.
“Stay behind me.”
I almost laughed.
“I'm not twelve.”
“Finnley—”
“No.”
This was my case too.
Wynn reached the upper landing first.
A guard appeared.
Wynn hit him before he could shout.
I grabbed the man's weapon.
“Safety.”
Wynn pointed.
I clicked it.
Dad gave me a look.
“Prison education.”
“Not funny.”
We reached the blue office.
Hannah sat tied to a chair.
Derek Shaw stood beside her.
And Carter stood near the window.
My stepbrother.
He looked terrified.
“Finnley?”
I raised the weapon.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Carter lifted both hands.
“This isn't what you think.”
“You framed me.”
“I didn't have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
Derek reached toward his jacket.
Wynn aimed.
“Don't.”
Derek froze.
Dad moved toward Hannah.
Then Carter said, “Camden, don't.”
Dad stopped.
“Why?”
Carter nodded toward the floor.
A pressure switch was taped beneath Hannah's chair.
Wire ran toward a device near the wall.
Explosive.
Wynn swore softly.
Carter's hands trembled.
“Hale said if anyone tried to move her, the building goes up.”
Hannah looked at me.
“Finnley.”
“You okay?”
“Been better.”
Dad stared at Carter.
“Help us.”
Carter laughed bitterly.
“You think I know how?”
“You helped set this up.”
“No. Derek did.”
Derek glared at him.
“Shut up.”
Carter suddenly looked at me.
Then at Derek.
Something passed between us.
I understood.
Carter lunged.
He slammed Derek into the wall.
Wynn rushed forward.
I grabbed Hannah's chair to stop it from moving.
Dad pulled Derek's weapon away.
Within seconds, Wynn had Derek handcuffed.
Carter lay on the floor bleeding from his mouth.
“Why?” I asked him.
He spat blood.
“Because I'm tired.”
“Tired?”
“Of being afraid.”
His eyes filled.
“You think Reagan controls anything? She doesn't.”
“Then tell us who does.”
“Hale.”
“We know.”
“No.”
Carter shook his head.
“You don't.”
He looked toward Dad.
“Hale isn't working for Graham Vale.”
Dad frowned.
“Then who?”
Carter laughed weakly.
“Graham works for Hale.”
That changed the hierarchy completely.
“Hale owns pieces of twelve companies,” Carter said. “Judges. Lawyers. cops. Developers. He makes cases disappear.”
Hannah spoke from the chair.
“He's been laundering money through court-controlled asset seizures for fifteen years.”
Wynn stared at her.
“You proved it?”
“Almost.”
“Where?”
Hannah smiled despite the blood on her cheek.
“Somewhere Hale can't reach.”
We still needed to disarm the device.
Carter pointed toward a control box.
“Derek knows the code.”
Derek refused.
Wynn threatened federal terrorism charges.
Still nothing.
Then Dad walked toward him.
“You know what's interesting, Derek?”
Silence.
“I remember your daughter.”
Derek's face changed.
“She graduated high school last year.”
“Don't.”
“Hale knows where she lives, doesn't he?”
Derek looked away.
“You're not protecting Hale,” Dad continued. “You're afraid of him.”
Derek's jaw tightened.
“Help us end this.”
Twenty seconds later, he gave Wynn the code.
The pressure switch disengaged.
I cut Hannah's restraints.
She could barely stand.
Then sirens approached.
Federal agents.
Hannah grabbed my arm.
“We need to leave.”
“We're safe.”
“No.”
She looked terrified.
“Hale wanted us to find this place.”
My stomach sank.
“What?”
“He wanted Derek arrested.”
“Why?”
“So Derek can't testify before Hale controls the narrative.”
Then an explosion shook the warehouse.
Not inside.
Outside.
The parking lot.
We ran to the window.
Dad's car was burning.
A second explosion hit the rear loading area.
Hale wasn't trying to kill us.
He was destroying evidence.
Flames moved toward the records section of the warehouse.
Hannah pointed downstairs.
“My files!”
I ran.
Boxes were already burning.
I pulled one away from the flames.
Wynn grabbed another.
Dad shouted for us to get out.
Then I saw something inside a half-burned folder.
My name.
STATE OF CALIFORNIA v. FINNLEY DENNIS
Underneath was a confidential memo.
I ripped it free.
Signed by Judge Robert Hale.
Dated six weeks before my arrest.
The memo discussed the sentence I would receive if convicted.
Before I'd even been charged.
May you like
My trial had never been a trial.
The outcome had been decided before the crime was supposedly discovered.
