Chapter 2 - The Silent Surveillance
The next three days were a masterclass in patient, surgical precision. While Jessica remained under guard at the hospital, Thomas and I began our work. We didn't go to the police yet. If we went to the local sheriff, Carolyn’s family—who practically funded the precinct—would see the evidence destroyed by sunset.
Instead, I used my woodworking shop as a tactical hub. I had spent years learning how to carve, sand, and build from scratch; now, I applied that patience to digital reconnaissance. I used a signal interceptor to monitor the household traffic of the Sterling estate.
Carolyn thought the internet was just a utility, but I treated it like the grain of wood—I knew where the weak spots were. By Tuesday, I was inside their private server. I watched their emails, their bank transfers, and their frantic text conversations.
They weren't panicking about the law. They were panicking about the optics.
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"Jessica is a problem we have solved," Carolyn messaged her husband, Jessica's father-in-law. "The narrative is that she fell off the trail. If the police push, remind them who holds the mortgage on their homes."
I saved every packet of data. I wasn't building a crib anymore. I was building a cage.
