Chapter 60
State v. Preston Sinclair and Margot Holt
Tessa — Front Row
The courtroom was packed.
Not with strangers—but with Sylva.
Firefighters who’d walked the mountain roads until their feet blistered. Mary Lou and Ned. Willow from City Limits. Deputies in dress uniforms. Off-duty officers in flannel. Book club ladies who’d stood under floodlights calling Sara’s name into the trees.
Now they filled Judge Harlan’s courtroom, eyes fixed on the defense table.
On him.
Tessa sat in the front row.
Burke and Caitlin to her left. Scout to her right—his sling brushing her shoulder when he shifted. Sara two seats down, uniform crisp, Luke steady behind her.
The bailiff’s voice rang out.
“All rise.”
Judge Harlan entered. Older than he’d looked a month ago.
“Be seated.”
Then the side door opened.
Margot Holt entered first.
The room inhaled.
Margot—poured coffee, delivered casseroles, asked for updates with soft concern—now stood in cuffs.
Another door opened.
Sinclair.
Orange jumpsuit. Cuffed. Clean-shaven. Ordinary.
That made Tessa’s skin crawl more than anything.
He scanned the room once. Assessed. Calculated.
His gaze landed on her.
Held.
The district attorney rose—tall, dark suit cut clean over broad shoulders, dark hair precise, expression unreadable. The kind of man who didn’t raise his voice because he never had to.
“Reid Calloway for the State of North Carolina.”
Judge Harlan nodded.
“Mr. Sinclair, you are here for arraignment on multiple felony charges.”
Reid’s voice carried evenly through the room.
“Preston Sinclair, you are charged with:
— First-degree murder in the death of Lauren Pierce.
— First-degree kidnapping of Deputy Sara Parker and Special Agent Tessa Quinn.
— Attempted murder of Deputy Scout Wilson.
— Multiple counts of unlawful restraint and obstruction of justice.
— Conspiracy to commit kidnapping with Margot Holt.”
Each charge landed heavy.
“How does your client plead?” the judge asked.
“Not guilty,” the defense replied.
A murmur rolled through the courtroom, cut short by the bailiff.
“State’s position on bond?” Judge Harlan asked.
Reid stepped forward.
“This defendant planned and concealed a holding environment for years. He allowed one victim to die in his custody. He abducted two others while presenting himself as a cooperating member of this community. He fired on law enforcement.
He is a planner. A manipulator. A danger.
The State requests he be held without bond.”
The defense began to argue.
Judge Harlan raised a hand.
“I’ve heard enough.”
He looked at Sinclair.
“Bond is denied.”
The room didn’t cheer.
It exhaled.
Reid remained standing.
“For the record,” he said evenly, “the State intends to demonstrate that this was not brilliance.”
Silence settled.
“This was not artistry. Not philosophy. Not genius.”
Sinclair’s jaw tightened.
Reid’s gaze did not waver.
“It was logistics.”
A beat.
“Control dressed up as intellect.”
Sinclair shifted forward in his chair.
“You misunderstand the work,” he said calmly, voice carrying just enough to reach the bench. “You mistake structure for cruelty.”
Every head in the room turned.
Reid did not.
He didn’t look at him.
Didn’t rise to it.
He simply adjusted the file in front of him.
“No,” Reid said evenly. “We don’t.”
Silence fell heavier this time.
Not dramatic.
Not explosive.
Final.
Sinclair opened his mouth again—then stopped.
There was nowhere for the argument to go.
No audience left to impress.
No metaphor waiting.
For the first time since entering the courtroom—
he looked small.
Reid sat.
Deputies moved in.
Reid’s gaze shifted briefly to the front row—to the women who had survived—then back to the record.
Transfer Corridor
The elevator doors opened.
Deputies stepped out with Sinclair in chains.
Sara Parker stood waiting at the end of the hall.
Uniform. Badge. Sidearm.
Deputy. Not victim.
Sinclair’s eyes flicked to her.
“Deputy,” he said lightly. “I enjoyed our work together.”
The deputies stiffened.
“Wait,” Sara said.
Burke watched but didn’t interfere.
Sara stepped closer.
“You’re right about one thing,” she said calmly. “You’re a finished story now.”
She held his gaze.
“But mine isn’t. Tessa’s isn’t. Lauren’s wasn’t.”
A flicker crossed his face.
“You pumped lavender into that room,” she continued. “But you couldn’t erase what it was.”
A beat.
“Chlorine,” she said. “That’s what was under it.”
His composure cracked.
“You were hiding a pool house,” she finished. “Not a masterpiece.”
His mouth opened—ready with a correction.
None came.
The deputies moved him.
Sara didn’t step back.
Sinclair hesitated.
For a fraction of a second, the chain between his wrists went taut as he waited for her to move.
She didn’t.
He had to turn sideways to pass her.
Metal brushed fabric.
For the first time since the arrest, he broke eye contact first.
The deputies guided him toward the elevator.
He didn’t look back.
Later — Interview Room
Margot Holt sat across from Dr. Calder.
No soft smile now.
“I helped them,” Margot said quietly. “They came in terrified. I made them presentable.”
“You undressed them,” Calder said.
Margot nodded.
“I prepared the pages.”
Scout stepped away from the glass.
In the hallway, Calder found him.
“She braided their hair,” Calder said quietly. “Called it care.”
Scout’s expression hardened.
“The room was still his,” Calder added. “She just made it easier for him.”
Sheriff’s Department — Later
The bullpen had emptied.
Scout spread photographs across a metal table.
He tapped one.
“Typewriter.”
Calder leaned closer.
“The lowercase t prints high.”
She studied the comparison.
“The one in the room prints high,” Scout continued. “Raines’s doesn’t.”
Silence.
“So Sinclair planted Raines long before any of us suspected him,” Calder said.
Scout nodded.
Sinclair had positioned Raines as his fall guy long before Raines knew he was in play.
“That’ll matter at trial,” Calder said.
Kyle Denton stepped forward.
“You were right,” he said to Scout. “About Sinclair.”
“We all missed pieces,” Scout replied.
Denton’s eyes shifted to Tessa.
“She was never really with me,” he admitted. “I think I knew.”
Scout held steady.
“She chose.”
Denton nodded.
“You kept her alive,” he said.
“We did.”
Denton slipped on his coat.
“Take care of her, Wilson.”
“I will.”
The door closed.
Burke watched Scout for a long moment, then nodded once.
Scout crossed the room.
Tessa stepped beside him, her shoulder brushing his. His hand found hers.
For once, there was nothing between them but daylight.