Chapter 4 - THE DOCTOR’S CONFESSION
Jax was released from the hospital that night, a few stitches in his forehead, a cast on his left wrist, his police cruiser totaled, the mechanic confirming what we already knew: the brake lines had been cleanly cut, with a knife, not frayed from wear. We hid out in Maggie’s office that night, a tiny space above the hardware store on Main Street, the windows covered with newspaper, the door locked three times, going over every piece of evidence again, till we knew it by heart. By morning, we had a plan: confront Dr. Hale at his clinic right when it opened, before he could warn Carter or the mayor, get him to confess everything on tape.
The clinic was in a small brick building on the edge of town, the parking lot empty except for Hale’s silver Mercedes, the receptionist’s desk unmanned when we walked in, Jax in his uniform, his hand on his gun, Maggie with a small tape recorder hidden in her purse, me right behind them, my heart hammering. We found Hale in his office, sitting behind his desk, his face pale, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the desk in front of him, like he’d been waiting for us. He didn’t even try to run when we walked in, just held up his hands, his voice shaking.
“I know why you’re here,” he said, staring at Jax’s gun. “I’ve been waiting for someone to come. I didn’t want to do any of it, Finnley. Carter came to my house three years ago, held a gun to my daughter’s head, told me if I didn’t forge the evidence against you, he’d kill her. Then last year, he came back, said I had to sign the death certificate for your dad, said if I didn’t, he’d make sure Lila never came home from school again.” He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a small digital recorder, sliding it across the table. “I taped every conversation. Every threat, every meeting, every time Carter told me what to do. It’s all there. Him admitting he framed you, him admitting he and Reagan tried to kill your dad, him admitting the mayor’s been laundering money through Dennis Construction for five years.”
Maggie picked up the recorder, pressing play, Carter’s voice filling the room, loud and slurred, like he was drunk: You sign those papers, Hale, or Lila’s gonna end up in the lake. No one’s gonna find her. No one’s gonna care. I felt sick, listening to him talk about hurting a kid, about ruining my life, about trying to kill my dad. Hale was crying now, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Finnley. I’m so sorry. I’ll testify. I’ll tell the judge everything. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
We were halfway out the door, the recorder safe in Maggie’s purse, when the sound of screeching tires made us freeze. Two black SUVs pulled up in front of the clinic, doors flying open, four men in ski masks jumping out, holding guns. Jax pushed us back into the office, slamming the door shut, locking it, dragging the heavy desk in front of it. “They found us,” he said, pulling his gun, his voice tight. “Hale must’ve had a tracker on him, or they followed us from the hospital.”
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One of the men fired a shot through the door, the bullet going through the wood inches from Jax’s head, and Hale screamed, diving under his desk. Maggie grabbed the recorder, shoving it down her shirt, and I looked around the office for a way out—the window, leading to the alley behind the clinic. I ran over, yanking it open, the cold morning air hitting my face. “This way!” I yelled, and Jax gestured for Maggie and Hale to go first, covering them with his gun, firing two shots through the door to keep the men back. We climbed out the window, running down the alley as fast as we could, more shots ringing out behind us, bullets hitting the brick walls inches from our heads. We didn’t stop running till we were three blocks away, hiding in the old church basement, gasping for air, Hale sobbing, Maggie clutching the recorder to her chest like it was a lifeline.
Jax pulled out his phone, dialing a number, his voice urgent: Yeah, it’s Marlow. I need the state police in Silver Lake now. We’ve got evidence of attempted murder, embezzlement, police corruption, and four armed men just tried to kill us. Send everyone you’ve got. He hung up, looking at us, his face grim. “They’re not gonna stop. Not till we’re all dead. We need to get somewhere safe, somewhere they won’t find us, till the state troopers get here.”
