Chapter 16 Under Oath
Rook
The clerk asked me to raise my right hand while men shouted beyond the courtroom windows.
I swore to tell the truth.
The words should not have felt different from the oath printed beneath my corrected affidavit.
They did. Paper had allowed me to sit alone with every fact before placing my name under it.
The witness chair put Maren twelve feet away, Northline across the aisle, and a room full of strangers behind me.
Every answer would belong to all of them the moment I spoke.
The judge had not yet told Evelyn to begin when Captain Ruiz entered through the side door.
He crossed to the bench and spoke low enough that the court reporter could not hear. The judge listened, then looked toward me.
“Mr. Voss, remain seated.”
I did.
Outside, an engine revved hard, followed by the sharp break of glass. Court officers moved to both doors. One locked the rear entrance. Another stood beside the witness rail with one hand near his radio.
My attorney leaned close. “Answer only what is asked. Do not volunteer anything about the plaza.”
The captain returned to the aisle.
“Mace is asking for him,” he told the judge.
Northline’s lawyer stood. “Your Honor, this is precisely why proceedings cannot continue. The witness is an officer of the organization participating in the disturbance.”
“Former officer,” Evelyn said.
The judge looked at me. “Do you currently hold authority over Wraithmoor members?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Can you influence them?”
The answer was not as simple.
“I may be able to ask them to withdraw.”
Northline’s lawyer spread one hand. “The distinction proves our point.”
“No,” I said.
My attorney touched my sleeve.
The judge’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“If I had authority, I could order them. I do not. If they listen, it will be their decision and the president’s order.”
Captain Ruiz said, “Wraithmoor is holding behind the south barrier, but the Cinder Saints have breached it twice. We have injured people on both sides. More motorcycles are arriving. Mr. Dyer says Voss may be able to persuade several members to leave before the next push.”
The judge considered the locked courtroom, the press row, and the evidence already admitted.
“You have five minutes,” she said. “Mr. Voss remains in custody of court security. No private communication with any witness or party. The oath remains in effect.”
I stood.
Maren did not look at me.
Captain Ruiz led me through the staff corridor to the south vestibule. The outer glass doors were locked, but the plaza lay fully visible beyond them.
Police barriers divided the square.
Wraithmoor stood on the courthouse side in black cuts. Mace was near the front with Nolan. Harrow sat against the stone planter while a paramedic wrapped his forehead. Switch stood beside him with blood at the corner of his mouth and one sleeve torn from shoulder to elbow.
Across the police line, red-and-black jackets moved around two fallen barriers. Several men wore Saints Recovery shirts beneath their colors. Others carried phones raised toward Wraithmoor instead of watching the officers between them.
Cameras need colors.
They had come for the image.
Mace saw me behind the glass.
Captain Ruiz opened the interior communication panel. “You may speak through the exterior system. Nobody comes inside.”
I pressed the button.
“Mace.”
My voice carried through the speaker above the doors.
The plaza shifted. Wraithmoor faces turned toward me. So did the cameras.
Mace stepped closer to the glass. “You need to be on the stand.”
“I am.”
His eyes moved to the courtroom corridor behind me. He understood.
Switch wiped blood from his mouth. “They hit Harrow. They tried the service entrance.”
“I know.”
“They are going again.”
“Then move our line back.”
His expression changed.
I could not hear his answer through the glass, but I knew the shape of it.
No.
I pressed the button again. “Northline paid for visible pressure. Every step toward them completes the invoice.”
One of the Saints shouted something and struck the barrier with a metal pole. Officers turned toward him. Phones rose higher.
Mace looked over his shoulder, then back at me. “More of ours are coming.”
“Send them home.”
“You do not give orders.”
“No.”
The word moved through the speaker.
For most of my adult life, influence and authority had occupied the same place. Men listened because I held office, controlled routes, and stood close to the chair. Losing rank had shown me what remained when those things were removed.
I had work, history, and the consequences of being wrong.
“I am testifying to what I did,” I said. “If one Wraithmoor man crosses that line, I will also testify that we knew the provocation was paid for and chose it anyway.”
Switch took one step toward the glass. “You would put us in the record?”
“I will not lie for us.”
The sentence struck harder than a threat.
A Saint threw a bottle. It hit the pavement between police lines and broke. Officers surged toward the red-and-black side.
Switch’s hands closed into fists.
I said his legal name.
“Tomas.”
He stared at me through the glass.
“You told the table I could work,” I said. “This is the work. Help Mace get them out.”
Blood ran from the cut beside his mouth. He looked toward Harrow, the fallen barrier, and the cameras.
Then he turned his back on the Saints.
“Wraithmoor,” he shouted. “Mount up.”
The first men did not move.
Mace raised one hand.
The square quieted around the black line.
“North lot,” he ordered. “Paired exits. Nobody stops before Greyhaven.”
Nolan repeated the order. Switch walked down the line, pointing men toward the lot. Harrow pushed away from the planter and refused the stretcher, but he let two brothers support him.
The Saints shouted after them.
Wraithmoor kept moving.
The image changed. Cameras that had been waiting for black cuts to charge captured them turning away instead.
Mace remained until the last member cleared the plaza. Before he followed, he looked through the doors at me.
He did not salute, nod, or offer forgiveness.
He placed one hand over the Wraithmoor patch on his chest, then lowered it.
Captain Ruiz closed the communication panel.
“Time,” he said.
I returned to the courtroom under the same oath.
The judge waited until I sat.
“Did you direct Wraithmoor members to leave the plaza?”
“I asked. The president ordered it.”
“Did you threaten retaliation?”
“No.”
“Did you communicate with any witness?”
“No.”
She looked toward Northline’s table. “Proceed.”
Evelyn approached the lectern with my affidavits in one hand.
“State your full name.”
“Eli James Voss.”
“Are you known by another name?”
“Rook.”
“Did that name carry official standing within Wraithmoor?”
“Yes. I served as vice president.”
“Do you still?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I surrendered the office after my affair and disclosure of confidential material were exposed. The table removed my rank permanently.”
The room held still around the word affair.
Evelyn established the marriage, eleven years, and my role in Wraithmoor’s recovery and salvage business. Then she asked when Leah first contacted me.
I gave the date.
“Did the contact remain professional?”
“No.”
“What did it become?”
“A six-week affair.”
“How many sexual encounters occurred?”
“Three.”
“Where?”
“Twice in the apartment above Wraithmoor’s parts warehouse. Once in Erie after the regional towing conference.”
“Did your wife know?”
“No.”
“Did Ms. Sutter know you were married?”
“Yes.”
“What did you tell her about the marriage?”
“That it was over. It was not.”
Maren sat beside Evelyn’s empty chair. Her face gave me nothing. She had heard the facts before. Public repetition did not make them smaller.
Evelyn moved to the report.
“Who prepared the preliminary traffic-impact analysis?”
“Maren Voss.”
“Why did you have access?”
“Fleet data came from operations. She gave me access so I could verify truck movements and seasonal volumes.”
“Did that permission include sending the report to Northline?”
“No.”
“Did you send it to Leah Sutter?”
“Yes.”
“Knowingly?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she needed proof that the relationship had produced useful access. I believed she might expose the affair if I gave her nothing. I chose to send my wife’s work to protect myself.”
Northline’s lawyer objected that my conclusion about Leah’s motive was speculative.
Evelyn rephrased.
“What did Ms. Sutter say?”
“That she would have to tell Gideon the relationship produced nothing.”
“What did you understand that to mean?”
“That Gideon would learn about the affair.”
“And what did you choose?”
“To send the report.”
The word choose remained where it belonged.
Evelyn asked about the seventeen days between the transfer and the filing. I described living with Maren, watching her prepare the hearing, driving her to the municipal annex, and saying nothing.
“Did you believe Northline possessed the report?”
“I knew Leah had it. I told myself she would keep it private.”
“Did you believe her?”
“I wanted to.”
“That is not the question.”
Maren had said the same words in Evelyn’s conference room.
“No,” I answered. “Not fully.”
Evelyn opened the corrected affidavit.
“Let us discuss Erie. Did Ms. Sutter handle your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you discover a transfer notification?”
“Yes.”
“Did you later see screenshots on her device?”
“Yes.”
“What did they contain?”
“Parts of Wraithmoor’s shared operations calendar, a riverfront property map, an attendee list, message previews, and scheduling notes.”
“Did one note identify a camera outage?”
“Yes.”
“Did another identify a Greyhaven donor meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Did you report the transfer?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I wanted to conceal the affair. I was also afraid a security report would expose Wraithmoor systems to outside review.”
“Which concern controlled your decision?”
“The affair. If I had not been hiding it, I would have reported the breach.”
“Did you know Northline planned sabotage?”
“No.”
“Did you know Leah forwarded the screenshots before deleting them from her phone?”
“No.”
“Did you know Gideon Pike had hired Barrow Risk or Saints Recovery?”
“No.”