Chapter 9
Tuesday late morning
Sabre sat at her desk in the old Victorian house that had been remodeled into offices and booted up her computer.
Her own case database had years of color-coded files, names, notes, and reminders she'd built over nearly a decade.
If she had represented Bay or anyone connected to her, she'd likely find it fast.
She typed: Mercer
Several files loaded, all connected to Mercy Hospital, but no one with the name Mercer, not even a witness or reporting party. Sabre opened each file anyway. None fit.
She tried the name Bay, and Joy Bay, but got nothing. She found two people named Lila, but none that could possibly be connected to Bay.
Sabre shifted in her chair. That wasn't right. If the girl had been in dependency under that name, she would find traces somewhere. Maybe not Bay herself, but a parent, sibling, prior referral—something. Sabre was starting to think she was right after all. She didn’t know this girl.
She grabbed her phone and called Social Services.
“Maxine, are you busy?”
Maxine laughed. “Are you calling because you miss me or because you need something?”
Sabre smiled. “Both?”
~~~
Twenty minutes later, she sat in a chair beside Maxine's desk at DSS while the administrator accessed her system. Rows of files filled the screen.
Maxine frowned. “Lila Bay Mercer?”
“Or Bay Mercer. Or Lila Mercer. Or Joy Bay.”
Maxine kept typing. “Nope.” She tried again with different spellings. Still nothing.
Sabre frowned. “What about just Mercer?”
Maxine clicked through several results. “We have a couple of cases with that last name, but no Bay, or no Lila, and one was before you were even here. You weren’t counsel on the other one either. Besides, the kids would be too young.” Maxine looked over at her. “Who is this girl?”
“I'm not sure yet.”
“Well, she's not in dependency, at least not under that name.”
Sabre sat quietly for a second. Then she stood, thanked Maxine, and left.
~~~
An hour later she sat in the probation office and went through the same process. The clerk found nothing for Bay, Joy, or Lila Mercer, or anything under Ridden. She ran a reverse check with Sabre’s name, then handed her the list.
“I’m sorry,” the clerk said. “There’s no juvenile history before this current case.”
“Thanks for your help.”
~~~
Sabre was still thinking about the case when she walked into the courthouse. This wasn’t normal. Even kids who tried to disappear left some kind of trace—school records, medical visits, prior contacts with the court, something.
Bay had claimed Sabre represented her. Not might have. Not could have. Had.
And yet there was no record.
The courthouse noise hit her as she walked through the metal detector; voices, footsteps, doors opening and closing. It was all normal, routine, and predictable. But this case wasn’t any of those things.
“Sabre.”
She turned.
Bob stood a few feet away, file in hand. “You look like you just found out Santa Claus isn’t real.”
Sabre walked over. “I checked the records for Bay Mercer, and she’s not there.”
Bob tilted his head. “So, what does that tell you?”
“She lied.”
“Or,” Bob said, “someone is lying to her.”
“That’s worse.”
Bob gave a small, humorless smile. “Much worse.”
“She didn’t just ask for me,” Sabre said. “She insisted on me.”
“Which means either she’s been watching you or someone else has.”
Sabre had been thinking the same thing.
Bob pushed up his glasses. “Are you still thinking about taking the case?”
Sabre shook her head. “I don’t know enough yet.”
“Fair. But if something feels off, it probably is.”
Sabre met his eyes. “I know.”
She headed down the hall, already working through possibilities. A girl with no records. A story that didn’t hold. A connection that shouldn’t exist.
Sabre went to Department One and completed a quick review. She was halfway to her car when her phone buzzed. She pulled it from her bag, expecting a routine message. The message was from a number she didn’t recognize.
Take the case… or the girl dies.
Sabre stopped walking. The world around her kept moving; cars passing, voices carrying across the parking lot, but everything inside her went still.
She read the message again. No explanation, no signature, just a command and a threat.
Sabre tightened her grip on the cell. This wasn’t about a confused teenager. It wasn’t about a bad decision in a moment of fear. Her involvement was deliberate. Someone had brought that girl into her courtroom and made sure Sabre noticed.
Now they were making sure she stayed. Sabre looked back toward the courthouse. The building loomed behind her, solid and familiar, a place she had just decided to step away from.
As she slowly lowered the phone, the question in her mind shifted. It wasn’t whether she should take the case. It was whether she had ever really been given a choice.
Take the case… or the girl dies. The words didn’t change the second time she read them. Or the third.
She tapped a contact.
The homicide detective answered on the second ring. “DuBois.”
“It’s Sabre.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just got a message,” she said. “And I don’t think it’s a joke.”
“Read it to me.”
Sabre glanced at the screen. “Take the case… or the girl dies.”
“Where are you?”
“The courthouse parking lot.”
“Stay there.”
“I’m not in danger—”
DuBois cut in, voice firm. “Stay there.”
She didn’t argue. “All right.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I’m five minutes out,” he said. “Don’t go anywhere. Better yet, go inside. Hang with the bailiffs.”
The line clicked dead.
~~~
DuBois didn’t take five minutes. He took three. He pulled in fast in an unmarked sedan, then crossed the lot to the courthouse door, eyes already scanning everything—cars, people, movement. Sabre came out to meet him.
“Let’s see what you’ve got,” he said.
Sabre handed him her phone.
He read the message. “What do you know about the number?”
“I didn’t recognize it, but my guess is it’s from a burner.”
DuBois nodded. “Figures.” He handed the phone back. “Who’s the girl?”
“I think it’s meant for a potential client, named Bay Mercer. She says she’s fifteen, and she’s here on a murder charge.”
“You question her age?”
“She looks younger than that to me.”
“Who did she murder?”
“Allegedly”— Sabre emphasized the word— “a man named Todd Maddox.”
“He’s not my case.”
“I know. He’s out of El Cajon. Greg Nelson is the homicide detective.” Sabre paused. “I called you because you’re my friend.”
“So, how do you know the text is about that case?”
“I’m not taking any new cases right now, but Judge Hammouri called me in for this one anyway because the girl asked for me specifically.”
DuBois looked at her. “You already knew her?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“But she knows you?”
“She claims to. She asked for me in court yesterday morning. I haven’t decided whether I’m taking the case.”
DuBois scowled. “Someone thinks that decision matters.”
Sabre nodded.
“This isn’t random.”
“I didn’t think it was.”
“Have there been any other threats?” he asked.
“No.”
DuBois slid his hands into his jacket pockets. “All right. Here’s where we are. Maybe, instead of pulling you onto the case, they’re trying to scare you off. Or it could be someone playing a much longer game.”
Sabre met his eyes. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Good. You should be.”
He looked around the lot again. “Have you noticed anyone following you?”
“No.”
“Anyone watching you?”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
DuBois nodded. “That doesn’t mean they aren’t.”
Sabre crossed her arms. “What do you want me to do?”
“Save the message. Don’t respond.”
“I already saved it.”
“If this is real, they’re not going to stop with one message.”
“I figured.”
“Call me when they contact you again. I’ll let Nelson know. He needs to be in the loop, and you’ll probably need to take your phone to him.”
~~~
Homicide Detective Greg Nelson looked older than the last time Sabre had seen him, not old, just seasoned. The easy grin he used to wear had been replaced by the measured expression of someone who had spent too many years looking at crime scenes. The gray creeping into his hair only reinforced it.
He stood when she stepped into his office. "Sabre."
"Greg."
He came around his desk and shook her hand. "It’s been a while."
"It has."
"I hear you’re trying to escape juvenile court."
She smiled. "I’m thinking about it."
"Nobody ever really escapes."
She laughed softly.
He motioned toward a chair. "DuBois filled me in. He said somebody's trying awfully hard to make sure you stay on my case."
“Before we get started on the phone, have you learned anything about Bay Mercer?” Sabre asked. “Who she is, her parents?”
“We have a name we’re pretty certain isn’t real. We have an age that even you question. And we know nothing about her parents or who this guardian is. She wouldn’t tell us anything, so we have nothing to go on. I’ve interviewed stubborn teenagers before, but this one’s different.
I think it’s because she’s protecting someone other than herself.”
“I agree.” Sabre sat and handed him her phone. "Here’s why I'm here."
Nelson looked down at the screen. The text was short. Take the case... or the girl dies.
Below it was the sender's number: (619) 555-4817
"Do you recognize it?"
She shook her head.
Nelson studied the message another moment before looking up. "Tell me how this connects to Todd Maddox."
"I don’t know for sure that it does.” She told him about Bay insisting on her by name. About the hearing. About declining the appointment because of the text and Judge Hammouri appointing Ethan instead.
When she finished, Nelson folded his arms.
"So, whoever sent this knew Bay was going to ask for you."
"Apparently."
"And they wanted you on the defense."
"Or wanted me involved somehow."
Nelson nodded slowly. "I don't like coincidences."
"Neither do I."
He picked up the phone again. "I've got a forensic examiner downstairs. He can make a logical extraction while you wait. You'll get your phone back before you leave."
"I'll need it."
"I figured."
He stood. "I'll also get preservation requests out to your carrier today. If we're lucky, they'll identify the originating carrier. If we're unlucky..."
"It's a burner."
He gave a slight nod. "Probably. But even burners leave footprints. If another message comes in..."
"I'll call you."
"Immediately."
"I won't delete anything."
"Good."
Nelson opened the door. "Because whether this is somebody trying to scare you, or somebody trying to help you, it's part of my homicide investigation now."