Chapter 9 Lines in the Sand
CHAPTER NINE
LINES IN THE SAND
Colin stepped into the quiet stillness of the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s Office shortly before dawn.
At this early morning hour, the building held a hushed emptiness that had become his sanctuary—his chance to think, to breathe, to prepare himself before the world inevitably rushed back in.
Right behind him, Sarah Mitchell turned toward her security station, clutching a large, steaming coffee in her hand.
“See you later,” she told him over her shoulder, moving toward her desk.
Colin nodded but didn’t reply. He paused, glancing down the shadowy hallways lined with silent offices, their doors half-open as if waiting.
By eight-thirty, these corridors would be buzzing with nervous chatter and urgent footsteps.
But right now, in these precious moments, they belonged solely to him and his restless thoughts.
He set his coffee and briefcase down, flicked on his desk lamp, and settled into his chair.
The glow illuminated stacks of files and notes—remnants of a weekend spent poring over Elias Moreno’s statements and the FBI’s preliminary intel.
Colin’s eyes lingered briefly on Moreno’s name, scrawled in bold, black letters. His jaw tightened.
It felt surreal, depending on the word of a criminal—a man who, not so long ago, he’d have prosecuted without hesitation. But now Moreno’s voice was key to ending something far worse—something Colin could barely think about without his heart twisting in his chest.
He glanced at the bookshelf beside his desk. Joshua’s framed photo sat there, his eyes warm and calm, offering silent reassurance. Colin reached out, touched the edge of the frame gently, and whispered, “I promise, bud. I won’t lose sight of what really matters.”
A soft tap made him tense. He looked up to see Sarah leaning against his open door and he relaxed, nodding her inside.
“What have you got?”
“Updated schedule.”
Colin sat back, nodding, lifting his coffee to his lips.
She placed the paper on his desk, the print neat and precise. “There you go.” She didn’t turn to go right away. Instead, she lingered in the doorway, arms folded, coffee still steaming in one hand.
“You sleep at all this weekend?” she asked.
Colin huffed. “Define sleep.”
Sarah arched a brow. “I’ll define it as something that requires horizontal surfaces and closed eyes. You manage either of those?”
He smiled faintly but didn’t answer. She stepped inside, shut the door behind her with a quiet click, and lowered herself into the visitor’s chair.
“You’ve got that look,” she said. “The one you get before a storm.”
Colin’s eyes flicked toward her. “There is a storm coming. We both know that.”
“I know.” She held his gaze, steady and unflinching.
They sat for a moment in companionable silence, broken only by the low hum of the desk lamp and the distant creak of the building settling.
“You remember that night in ‘21?” she asked finally. “When the courthouse bomb threat came through and we were the only two stuck in the building?”
Colin gave a soft, tired laugh. “We spent three hours in the file room because you didn’t trust the stairwell.”
“Hell, no, I didn’t! Doors and stairwells, that’s where they get you!”
Colin grinned as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on his desk. “You kept pacing like a caged wolf, muttering legal code under your breath. I figured if I had to die in a municipal basement, at least I’d do it with someone I liked.”
He chuckled, then sobered. “You’ve had my back from the beginning.”
“And you’ve had mine,” she said. Then she jabbed a finger at him. “Which means I get to tell you when you’re running on fumes. And right now? You are.”
Colin tilted back in his chair, stretching. “I just need a little more time. Just enough to get this right.”
She studied him, her gaze sharper now. “Is that what this is? Or are you going mad trying to keep the world from touching him?”
Colin leaned forward, his eyes locking with Sarah’s––silent, thoughtful. Then he sighed.
“He doesn’t say anything,” he said at last. “But I can feel it. Every time I leave the house, it gets a little harder for him. I’m dragging this home with me, Sarah. And I promised him—”
“That you’d protect him?”
His jaw clenched.
“I know what that promise costs,” she said softly. “We all make it. But you can’t carry it all, Colin. You can’t throw yourself in front of every danger like it’s noble and expect the people who love you to just… watch.”
He looked away. “If anything happens to him—”
“It won’t be because you didn’t try hard enough. Or care enough. He knows that. We all do. Besides,” she added with a quick grin, “Josh is no pushover. I’d hate to be the one who had to set him down.”
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small object, setting it gently on the edge of his desk — a weathered penny.
Colin blinked. “You kept it!”
“Of course I did,” she said. “You flipped this the day you took the job. Said if it landed heads-up, you’d try to believe you could still do some good. Remember?”
He stared at it. The same dull coin, its edges smoothed with age. “That was a long time ago.”
“Not to me.” She nudged it forward. “We’ve been through a lot of fire together, Campbell. And you never once stopped showing up. Buddy, that is the good!”
He swallowed hard.
Sarah stood, her tone quiet. “Let the rest of us carry some of the load. That’s how we protect the people we love. By surviving it together.”
Colin reached out and curled his fingers around the penny, pressing it tight in his palm. Then looked up.
“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Walking into the fire with us.”
She smiled—quick, fierce, loyal. “Damn right!”
He held the penny out to her, but she shook her head and moved toward the door. “You carry it for a while. Bring you luck.”
Colin nodded, tension easing just slightly. “Thanks, Sarah.” He exhaled slowly as she left, the quiet returning, then he shoved the penny into his pocket, and went back to Moreno’s file.
They had drawn the line. Now, they had to hold it.
He spent the next two hours going over the preliminary plans for the dismantling of the sex trafficking ring and the provisions that Joshua had helped set up to protect and assist the young victims. At exactly eight-thirty, Esther’s voice echoed down the hallway: “Conference room, everyone.”
Colin rose, picking up Moreno’s file, and joined Norm Clayton, who nodded silently from his office doorway.
Jason Aldridge, Colin’s young protégé, hurried behind them, still organizing papers as he walked.
Adilynn Clemmons trailed the group, a coffee cup balanced atop a stack of misdemeanor files.
Two legal interns hovered at the outskirts of the room, notepads in hand.
Esther stood waiting, arms crossed. Her gaze moved around the room as they settled into their seats, lingering on Colin. “Let’s get to it,” she began. “Elias Moreno’s deal with the Department of Justice means a significant workload shift. We need clarity on assignments, and quickly.”
She turned to Colin first, pausing for only a heartbeat.
“Colin, as we discussed, I want you to take point on the trafficking ring. Federal coordination, victim protection, full oversight. It’s big, and it’s messy.
You’re the best person we have to handle it.
” She gave him an enquiring glance. “Is Josh on board?”
Colin inclined his head once, tapping the folder. “He is. Shelters and therapists are lined up. It’s all here.”
Her eyes flicked to Norm, who sat beside Colin. “Norm, you’re lead prosecutor on Barrett’s murder. It’s high-profile—media, Feds, everyone will be watching. I want this case airtight. No loose ends.”
“Got it,” Norm said, jotting down notes without looking up.
“Jason,” Esther continued, “you’ll handle the judicial and law enforcement corruption investigations. You’ll report directly to Colin. We need to maintain absolute integrity. No shortcuts. Understood?”
Jason straightened in his seat, eyes alert. “Absolutely. I’ll keep Colin updated on every step.”
“Good,” Esther replied, turning finally to Adilynn. “Adi, you’ll cover the gaps and keep the misdemeanors flowing, and any felonies that fall into the cracks. Keep our docket moving. The community still needs stability, and I don’t want smaller cases getting lost in the shuffle.”
Adilynn inclined her head briskly. “No problem.”
Esther leaned forward, her palms pressed flat against the table, her voice lowering.
“This deal is volatile, and our office will be under scrutiny. No leaks, no drama. If you need help, ask for it. If you see trouble coming, speak up. If you’re contacted by anyone—press, outside counsel, or most particularly anyone from Moreno’s staff—report it to me at once. Understood?”
She stood straight again, eyes meeting Colin’s once more. “Any immediate questions?”
Silence filled the room for a moment before Colin spoke. “Do we have complete cooperation from Moreno’s attorneys?”
“Complete?” Esther gave a dry laugh. “Let’s call it provisional. Trust nothing, verify everything.”
Colin gave a short nod. “Got it.”
As the meeting broke up, Jason turned to Colin, voice cautious. “Hey, boss man, mind if we talk later? I want your input before I dive in.”
“Come by after lunch,” Colin replied, rising. Norm patted Colin’s shoulder as he passed in silent encouragement.
Colin lingered a moment, eyes on Esther. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
Her expression softened slightly. “Eyes on a swivel, Colin. Moreno said you’re untouchable, but don’t let down your guard just yet. Keep your security detail close.”
He gave a tight nod, holding her gaze. “Count on it.”