Chapter 2: Two Sides of Justice
The Millbrook County Jail smelled of disinfectant and desperation. Marcus sat across from Danny Russo in the sterile visiting room, studying the nineteen-year-old who supposedly had everything.
"You're Kane's son."
"I am. And you're accused of murdering your girlfriend."
Danny's hands shook as he reached for the paper cup of water. "I didn't kill Emma. I loved her."
"Tell me what happened."
"We were supposed to meet at the mill that night. She said she had something important to tell me."
"The old textile mill? Why there?"
Danny's voice dropped. "She'd been going there a lot lately. Said she was researching something for school, but..." He paused. "She was scared, Mr. Kane. Really scared."
"Of what?"
"She wouldn't say. Just kept talking about things she'd found. Documents. Photos. She said some people in this town weren't who they pretended to be."
Marcus leaned forward. "Did she mention any names?"
"No, but the night she died, she called me crying. Said she couldn't meet at the mill anymore, that it wasn't safe. We agreed to meet at the old bridge instead."
"But she never showed up."
"I waited two hours. Then the police found her body at the mill with my class ring in her hand."
"How did your ring get there?"
Danny's face crumpled. "I gave it to her three months ago. She wore it every day. But Mr. Kane, I swear on my mother's grave—I never went to that mill that night."
"The prosecution says you have no alibi."
"Because I was alone, waiting for her. Who has an alibi for being stood up?"
Marcus studied the boy's face. Either Danny Russo was an exceptional liar, or someone had orchestrated this perfectly.
"Danny, did Emma ever mention anyone named Thompson? Jake Thompson?"
"The kid from the trailer park? No, why would she?"
"Just curious. I'll be in touch."
The juvenile detention center felt different from the county jail—more like a school with bars than a prison. Jake Thompson sat with his back straight, hands folded on the metal table. Seventeen years old with old eyes.
"You're the new lawyer."
"Marcus Kane. Your case was my father's before he died."
"Sorry about that. He seemed like a good man."
"Did you know him well?"
Jake shrugged. "He came to the trailer park sometimes. Helped folks with legal stuff for free. My mama liked him."
"Tell me about the night of the fire."
"I was home with my sister. Mama was at the hospital—she's got lung cancer from working at that damn mill twenty years ago."
"Can your sister verify that?"
"She's eight years old. And she was asleep."
Marcus made a note. "The fire started around midnight. The prosecution says security cameras caught you near the mill at eleven-thirty."
"Those cameras been broken for months. Everybody knows that."
"Then how did they get footage of you?"
Jake's jaw tightened. "Maybe somebody fixed them real convenient-like."
"Why would someone frame you?"
"Because I'm nobody. Poor kid from the wrong side of town. Easy target."
"The mill's been closed for five years. Why burn it down now?"
Jake was quiet for a long moment. "Maybe somebody didn't want folks poking around in there anymore."
"What would they find?"
"I don't know. But Emma Caldwell was asking a lot of questions about that place before she died."
Marcus's pen stopped moving. "You knew Emma?"
"Not really. But she came by the trailer park few weeks ago. Asked my mama about the old days, when the mill was running. Wanted to know about workers who disappeared."
"Disappeared?"
"Mama told her about three girls who went missing back in the nineties. All worked late shifts at the mill. Police said they ran off, but mama never believed it."
"What did Emma say about that?"
"She got real excited. Started talking about patterns and cover-ups. Said she was gonna expose the truth."
Jake leaned forward. "Mr. Kane, I didn't burn down that mill. But whoever did—they wanted to make sure whatever Emma found stayed buried."
Marcus spread both case files across his father's desk as evening shadows crept through the office windows. Mrs. Rodriguez had gone home, leaving him alone with the evidence.
"Let's see what we've got."
Emma Caldwell, murdered September 15th. Jake Thompson, arrested for arson September 22nd. One week apart.
The prosecution wanted to fast-track both cases. Danny's preliminary hearing was scheduled for next week. Jake's trial date was set for the following month.
"Someone's in a hurry."
Marcus opened Emma's file. The crime scene photos showed her body in the mill's main floor, his father's notes scrawled in the margins: "Ring placed? No defensive wounds. Staged?"
Jake's file contained photos of the burned mill. His father had written: "Convenient timing. What were they hiding?"
Both files mentioned District Attorney Patricia Wells pushing for quick resolutions. Both mentioned the mill as a central location.
Marcus pulled out his father's note from the safe: "The mill holds the answers."
He opened his laptop and searched for information about the old Millbrook Textile Mill. Built in 1962, major employer until 2019. Owned by Millbrook Holdings LLC.
"Who owns Millbrook Holdings?"
Twenty minutes of research revealed a web of shell companies, but one name appeared repeatedly as a board member: Vincent Kane.
Marcus's phone buzzed. Mrs. Rodriguez had left him a stack of his father's old case files. He opened the first one: "Missing Persons - 1995-1998."
Three young women. All mill workers. All disappeared without a trace.
Lisa Martinez, 19. Last seen leaving the mill after a late shift.
Jennifer Walsh, 20. Car found abandoned near the mill entrance.
Maria Santos, 18. Never made it home from work.
All three cases went cold. All three investigations were handled by then-Detective Bobby Mason, now Police Chief.
Marcus's landline rang, jolting him from his research.
"Kane Law Office."
Silence, then a gravelly voice: "You're making a mistake."
"Who is this?"
"Take the plea deals and leave town. Tonight."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's advice. The kind your daddy should have listened to."
The line went dead.
Marcus stared at the phone, then at the files spread across his desk. Emma Caldwell had been asking questions about the mill. Three women had disappeared from the mill in the nineties. Jake Thompson was charged with burning it down just days after Emma's murder.
And his Uncle Vincent owned the damn thing.
Marcus reached for his cell phone and dialed Mrs. Rodriguez.
"I need everything my father had on the mill. And Mrs. Rodriguez?"
"Yes, Mr. Marcus?"
"Tomorrow morning, call the DA's office. Tell them I'm not taking any plea deals."
"Are you sure that's wise?"
Marcus looked at the crime scene photos, the missing persons files, and his father's cryptic notes.
"Probably not. But it's what Dad would have done."