Chapter 5 - THE CASINO TRAIL
At 3:00 p.m., while Rosie was fast asleep upstairs, the front doorbell rang.
Samuel walked down the stairs and opened the heavy oak door. Megan Brooks stood on the porch, her canvas bag over her shoulder, accompanied by a sharp-looking woman in a charcoal grey tailored suit holding a thick leather briefcase.
"Samuel," Megan said, stepping inside out of the biting wind. "This is Victoria Vance. She's a specialized forensic family attorney I asked to help us with this case."
Victoria Vance—no relation to Darlene's sleazy probate lawyer, Arthur Vance—shook Samuel's hand with a firm, dry grip. She had sharp blue eyes, silver hair pulled back into a tight bun, and a non-nonsense demeanor that radiated competence.
"Mr. Whitaker," Victoria said as they walked into the study. "Megan has briefed me on the situation. We have forty-eight hours before the preliminary custody hearing, and Darlene Pike's legal team is already preparing a defense claiming that Rosie's injuries were accidental and that your involvement is an overreach by a wealthy civilian."
Samuel gestured for them to sit near the fireplace. He stirred the coals, adding two thick oak logs to the fire until bright orange flames roared up the chimney.
"What do we need?" Samuel asked, sitting down in a leather armchair.
"We need proof of intent, severe neglect, and financial fraud," Victoria stated, opening her briefcase and laying out several financial printouts on the coffee table. "Darlene Pike filed for emergency guardianship of Rosie four days after Sarah Hail died of breast cancer six months ago. She cited familial duty. But look at these bank statements from the probate filings."
Samuel leaned forward, studying the red-inked numbers on the pages.
"Sarah Hail left an estate," Victoria explained, pointing a silver pen at a column of figures. "It wasn't massive, but Sarah was a prudent woman. She had a $150,000 term life insurance policy designated to a trust for Rosie's education, plus a small house on Elm Street valued at $210,000. Within ninety days of being appointed guardian, Darlene sold the Elm Street house at a fire-sale price of $140,000 to an LLC registered in Delaware."
"Who owns the LLC?" Samuel asked sharply.
"A man named Frank 'The Dice' Rossi," Victoria said coldly. "A known illegal gambling operator and loan shark based out of Bangor. Darlene owed him money. She practically handed him her dead sister's house to clear her personal gambling debts."
Samuel felt his fists tighten against his chair armrests. "And the survivor benefits?"
"Social Security pays $2,400 a month directly into a master account," Megan Brooks added. "Darlene added her name as a representative payee. Every month, within forty-eight hours of the deposit hitting the account, the funds are withdrawn via ATM at the Hollywood Casino in Bangor or the High Stakes Bingo Hall in Ellsworth."
"What about Rosie?" Samuel's voice was dangerous. "What was spent on her?"
"Based on school records," Megan said, her voice filled with sadness, "Rosie's school lunch account hasn't been refilled since October. The school counselor noted that Rosie was bringing a single dry piece of bread and an apple in her lunchbox every day. When the counselor questioned Darlene, Darlene threatened to sue the school board for harassment."
Samuel stood up, his jaw set like stone. He walked over to the tall leaded-glass window facing the sea.
"She wasn't just neglecting her," Samuel said, looking at his own reflection in the cold glass. "She was starving her and draining her mother's memory dry."
"It gets worse," Victoria said, pulling out a set of color photographs. "We managed to get a subpoena for the security footage from the Lighthouse Diner from last night."
Samuel turned around.
Victoria laid three glossy photographs on the table.
The images were grainy, stamped with a yellow time code: 18:42:15.
The first photo showed Darlene's rusty red pickup truck parked in the dark alley behind the diner. The passenger door was open.
The second photo showed Darlene physically shoving the small girl out of the truck cab onto the icy pavement. Rosie was holding her blue lunchbox.
The third photo—time-stamped 18:43:02—showed Darlene driving away into the blinding snow, leaving the seven-year-old child lying on the frozen ground in the dark.
Samuel stared at the middle photograph. His blood ran hot, a white-hot fury surging through every vein in his body. It hadn't been an accident. Rosie hadn't "wandered off."
Darlene Pike had intentionally abandoned a seven-year-old child in a Category 3 blizzard to freeze to death in a back alley.
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"That's not neglect," Samuel whispered, his voice trembling with deadly conviction. "That's attempted murder."
"It is," Victoria agreed grimly. "And with these photographs, we can ensure Darlene Pike doesn't just lose custody—she goes to a federal penitentiary for the rest of her life."
