Chapter 2 - Establishing the Perimeter
By 0200 hours, Emily was asleep in the guest room of my secure quarters just outside Fort Liberty. The military police at the gate had been briefed; nobody entered without my explicit clearance, and the Prescott name was placed on a permanent denial list.
I sat at my kitchen table, the overhead light casting long shadows across the neat stacks of folders I had already compiled. I had spent twenty-six years in military intelligence before taking command of a brigade. If the Prescotts wanted a war of attrition, they had picked an opponent whose entire life was built on logistics and intelligence gathering.
I opened my secure laptop and initiated a encrypted video call. Within three rings, the face of Major Marcus Vance appeared on the screen. Vance was my former intelligence officer, a man who could find a needle in a digital haystack while under enemy mortar fire. He was now stationed at the Pentagon, managing cyber-intelligence assets.
"Colonel," Vance said, straightening up immediately despite the hour. "I saw your alert. What do you need?"
"I need a deep-dive asset assessment on the Prescott Group, headquartered in Charlotte," I said, my voice flat. "Principals are Margaret Prescott, Ethan Prescott, and Brandon Prescott. I want their corporate filings, their personal banking, their international transfers, and any political contributions made in the state of North Carolina over the last ten years."
Vance’s eyes narrowed. "The Prescotts? Real estate development, commercial shipping infrastructure, major political donors. They’re heavy hitters in the state, ma'am. They have deep roots in the judicial system down there."
"They took my daughter's phone, held her against her will, and physically assaulted her," I said calmly.
The professional distance on Vance’s face vanished, replaced by a cold, military focus. "Understood, Colonel. I’m spinning up a secure server now. I'll utilize public records, financial disclosure audits, and cross-reference their shipping manifests. If they’ve dropped so much as a dime in an unauthorized account, I’ll find it."
"Look into their offshore accounts," I added, remembering Emily’s words. "Emily discovered ledgers before they locked her down. That's what triggered the assault. They aren't just protecting their family reputation; they're protecting a financial fraud."
"I'll have the preliminary battlefield architecture ready by 0600," Vance said. "Keep your head down, ma'am."
"Always, Marcus. Out."
I closed the laptop and walked to the window, looking out over the quiet base. The Prescotts thought they were playing a game of chess where they could buy the board. They didn't realize I was preparing to change the game entirely.
The next morning, at 0800, I arrived at the office of Chief Warrant Officer Four Sarah Jenkins, the head of the criminal investigation division at Fort Liberty. Jenkins was a legend in the corps—a meticulous investigator who had put away corrupt contractors and high-ranking officers alike without blinking.
I laid the medical reports from Mercy General on her desk, along with photographs I had taken myself of Emily’s bruised arms and the laceration near her hairline.
"This happened within the jurisdiction of the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department," I stated. "But given the political leverage the suspect family holds over local law enforcement, I want a parallel federal investigation initiated under the Interstate Domestic Violence statutes, considering they transported her across state lines from their South Carolina estate to the Charlotte property during her period of confinement."
Jenkins looked at the photos, her jaw tightening. "The Prescotts. I know the name. They tried to interfere with a military procurement audit two years ago. Thought they could pressure a procurement officer because Brandon Prescott went to school with the governor." She looked up at me. "Local PD will likely try to bury the initial report, Colonel. They’ll claim it’s a civil matter, a marital dispute."
"Let them try," I said. "I am filing the formal complaint with Charlotte PD myself at noon today. I want your team ready to step in the moment the local system shows signs of corruption."
"We’re on it, Colonel. They think they own the state, but they don't own the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and they certainly don't own the FBI if this turns into an interstate kidnapping charge."
As I left her office, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it on the second ring.
"Colonel Hart," Margaret Prescott’s voice came through the line, smooth, unbothered, and entirely dripping with condescension. "I assume you’ve had time to cool down and realize the gravity of your situation. We have already instructed our legal counsel to draft a settlement agreement. Emily will receive a generous stipend, provided she signs a non-disclosure agreement regarding her... behavioral issues. If you cooperate, we can ensure your upcoming promotion to Brigadier General goes through without any unexpected 'character concerns' raised in Washington."
I stopped in the middle of the headquarters courtyard, the midday sun warming the pavement.
May you like
"Mrs. Prescott," I said, my voice carrying an absolute, terrifying stillness. "You have crossed a line you cannot see. Do not call this number again. The next time you hear my voice, it will be in a setting you cannot buy your way out of."
I hung up before she could respond. The battle lines were drawn.
