CHAPTER 8: June Walks Into Falcon
Outside the prison walls, June Mercer stopped sleeping.
She worked days at the county hospital, then spent nights in borrowed offices with Caleb's new attorney, Naomi Bell, sorting photographs, trial transcripts, and documents that seemed to have been designed by men confident no poor family could pay to read them twice.
The Falcon Security sticker in the parking lot photograph led to a fleet number. The fleet number led to a retired sedan. The sedan had been sold at auction, but one repair invoice survived in a glove box scanned by an insurance company.
Naomi circled the date. "This car was serviced two days after Travis Holt died. Front fender damage. Interior cleaning. Cash payment."
"Who signed?" June asked.
Naomi turned the paper around.
The signature was E. Holt.
June should have felt victory. Instead she felt watched.
The next morning, she went to Falcon's public office with a recorder in her purse and anger under her tongue. The lobby looked like a bank pretending to protect people: glass walls, gray carpet, patriotic photographs, no warmth.
A receptionist told her no one was available.
June smiled. "Then I will wait."
She waited four hours.
At noon, a man in a charcoal suit approached. He was the man Caleb had seen behind her at visitation, the man from trial.
"Ms. Mercer," he said. "I am Graham Pike, legal counsel for Falcon. Harassing a contractor will not free your brother."
"No. Evidence will."
His expression did not change, but his eyes did. "Evidence has chains of custody. Yours has grief."
June took the parking lot photograph from her folder and placed it on the lobby table. "Then explain why a Falcon car arrived six minutes after my brother left Travis Holt alive."
Pike looked at the image for less than a second.
Too short.
Recognition does not need time.
He leaned closer. "You should be careful. Your brother is in a place where careful matters."
June gathered the photograph with shaking hands. "Was that a threat?"
"It was advice."
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, her phone buzzed with an unknown number.
A text message waited:
ASK CALEB ABOUT LENNOX GRAY'S SPOON.
June stared at the screen.
No one outside should know about the spoon.
