Chapter 4 - The Web of Lies
By midnight, the hospital room was dark except for the quiet, rhythmic monitor displaying Noah’s pulse.
His right arm was encased in a thick, bright blue fiberglass cast, resting on a plush pillow beside his chest. He was sound asleep, his thumb tucked gently into his mouth, his breath warm and steady.
Derek sat in the armchair in the corner, holding a paper cup of cold coffee, while Detective Vance from the SVU sat across from me at the small laminate table near the window.
"We ran Travis’s prints through the interstate database," Detective Vance said, turning a page in his folder. "His real name isn't Travis Sterling. It’s Travis Vance. He changed his middle name and skipped bail in Ohio three years ago."
I rubbed my tired eyes with both hands. "What was the warrant in Ohio for?"
"Domestic assault," Detective Vance replied flatly. "And misdemeanor child abuse against his ex-fiancée’s six-year-old daughter."
My blood ran cold. I looked over at Noah’s sleeping frame, a sick wave of guilt washing over me. "Lena knew," I whispered. "She had to know."
"We checked her bank statements," Detective Vance continued, leaning forward. "Travis doesn't have a job, Mark. He hasn't worked in two years. Lena’s been paying his credit card bills, his car payments, and his legal fees for a firm back in Cleveland. She’s been actively hiding his identity so he wouldn't get extradited."
"She chose a fugitive abuser over her own son," Derek said from the corner, his voice heavy as lead.
"We arrested Travis at the station two hours ago," Detective Vance said. "He’s being held without bail on felony child abuse, assault with a deadly weapon, and fugitive extradition charges. But Lena... Lena’s lawyer is already moving."
I looked up sharply. "Her lawyer?"
"Her family has money," I explained to Detective Vance, my bitterness spilling out. "Her father is a senior partner at a corporate tax firm downtown. They’re going to pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into this to protect their family name."
Detective Vance nodded grimly. "Her attorney, Richard Sterling, has already filed a motion to dispute the emergency custody order. He’s claiming that Derek illegally broke into the residence, that Travis acted in 'self-defense' against an intruder, and that Noah’s injuries were caused during the altercation between the two men."
I stood up so fast my chair rattled against the linoleum. "Self-defense?! Noah was already injured when he called me!"
"I know that, Mark," Detective Vance said calmly, gesturing for me to sit down. "You know that. But in Family Court, high-priced lawyers know how to create gray areas out of thin air. They are going to spin this into a chaotic home invasion where the child was caught in the middle of a rivalry between you and Lena."
Derek stood up from his chair, tossing his empty coffee cup into the trash can with a sharp clack.
"They can try," Derek said, his posture rigid. "I’ve got the phone log. Mark’s got the 31-second recording. And I’ve got the bruise on Travis’s knuckles that matches the width of the bat handle."
"We need more than that for the emergency custody hearing on Thursday," Detective Vance warned. "Judges in this district lean heavily toward maternal preservation unless there is undeniable, ironclad proof of long-term endangerment."
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I walked over to the side of Noah’s bed, leaning down to lightly touch his soft cheek. He stirred slightly, murmuring in his sleep, his little hand reaching out to grab my finger.
"I don't care how much money her father has," I whispered, my voice hardening into iron. "They aren't taking him back. Not ever."
