Chapter 9 - SOMEONE INSIDE THE DEPARTMENT
Daniel Price’s arrest made headlines.
A police officer accused of helping an abusive husband monitor his wife was the kind of story reporters could not ignore.
The department announced an external review.
Old cases involving Daniel were reopened.
Supervisors examined access logs.
Policy failures.
Missed warnings.
It was ugly.
It needed to be.
I had spent years telling victims that the system could help them.
Now my sister’s case exposed how one corrupt person could poison trust in that system.
Some officers avoided me.
Others apologized even though they had done nothing.
One veteran sergeant found me near the elevators.
“I should’ve noticed Price.”
“How?”
“He liked knowing things that weren’t his business.”
That wasn’t enough to identify corruption.
But hindsight makes every warning look obvious.
Daniel eventually admitted Mark had paid him more than $40,000.
Not all through traceable transfers.
Cash.
Gift cards.
Free renovation work.
In exchange, Daniel accessed reports and warned Mark when Emily contacted police.
He also searched my work schedule twice.
That explained things I had never noticed.
Mark always seemed to know when I was working late.
When I attended training.
When I traveled for conferences.
He used that information to isolate Emily at moments when I was least available.
Then Daniel revealed something else.
The photograph sent to Emily after the hospital?
Daniel hadn’t taken it.
Neither had Mark.
“Who did?” investigators asked.
Daniel refused to answer.
His attorney requested another negotiation.
The prosecutor declined.
“Tell us now or explain it to a jury.”
Daniel eventually gave them a name.
Aaron Mills.
Private investigator.
Licensed in Ohio.
Often hired by family law firms.
Including Susan Whitaker’s firm.
Aaron admitted conducting surveillance.
Susan had hired him.
She claimed she feared Emily might remove marital assets.
Aaron photographed Emily leaving the hospital.
But he denied sending the threatening package.
His original photograph existed digitally.
Someone else had printed it.
Who had access?
Susan.
Two paralegals.
Mark.
And Daniel, after Susan forwarded it.
Again the circle widened.
Then an examination of Mark’s electronic devices uncovered deleted messages with Aaron.
One exchange occurred months before the assault.
MARK: Need to know where she goes when I’m traveling.
AARON: Wife?
MARK: Yes.
AARON: Legal issue?
MARK: Personal.
AARON: I need a legitimate purpose.
MARK: Susan will handle paperwork.
The surveillance had lasted months.
Emily’s gym.
Grocery store.
Mom’s house.
My apartment.
A café where Emily once met an old college friend.
Mark knew almost everywhere she went.
No wonder she believed escape was impossible.
The most disturbing file was labeled ROUTINES.
It listed times.
Locations.
Names.
My schedule.
Mom’s church.
Emily’s dentist.
Her favorite grocery store.
A note beside my name read:
PRIMARY INTERFERENCE.
That was me.
Mark did not see me as family.
He saw me as an obstacle.
Then investigators found a second notation.
If E leaves, R will be first stop.
That explained why Emily never simply came to my home.
Mark had convinced her it would put me in danger.
And after seeing his records, I could no longer dismiss the fear as irrational.
One evening, after leaving the precinct, I noticed a vehicle behind me.
Gray sedan.
Two turns.
Still there.
Three.
Still there.
I did not drive home.
I called dispatch and headed toward a police substation.
The sedan disappeared.
Traffic cameras eventually identified the plate.
Rental vehicle.
Paid in cash-equivalent prepaid card.
No usable renter information.
Maybe coincidence.
Maybe not.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED OUT OF THEIR MARRIAGE.
I photographed the screen and turned the device over to investigators.
That night, for the first time, I understood the world Emily had been living in.
Every car could mean something.
Every unknown number.
Every stranger outside a store.
Fear turned ordinary life into a collection of possible threats.
The next morning prosecutors requested Mark’s bond be revoked.
Before the hearing began, the GPS monitoring company called.
Mark’s ankle device had stopped transmitting.
Police went to his approved residence.
He was gone.
On the kitchen counter, they found the charger.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
Three words.
ASK RACHEL WHY.
By noon, Mark Whitaker was officially a fugitive.
And nobody knew where he was going.
I did.
May you like
He was coming for the one person he blamed for losing control of everything.
Me.
