She’d been nowhere near County General yesterday. “Monica. Alana Pierce. I’m looking at what appears to be a toxicology report from your ER.” She described the document while scanning it for tells.
“Can you verify this for me?” There was keyboard clicking on the other end. “No record of you in our system yesterday. Alana, let me check with the lab directly.” More clicking.
“Nothing. This has to be forged. Want me to send over an official statement?” “Please. And Monica, document everyone who accessed the hospital’s report templates in the last 48 hours.”
Hanging up, Alana pulled up her calendar from yesterday. There. She’d been leading a virtual training session on hate crime prosecution from 2 to 4:00 p.m., exactly when the fake report claimed she was refusing tests at County General. Twenty-three ADAS had attended the Zoom.
Perfect alibi. She was downloading the meeting attendance log when Pastor Ruth Cole knocked on her open door. The older woman’s face creased with concern as she took in Alana’s tense posture. “Sarah called me,” Pastor Ruth said, settling into the chair across from Alana’s desk.
“Said you might need a friendly ear.” Alana explained about the forged report, showing Pastor Ruth the document. The older woman studied it, shaking her head slowly. “They’re getting desperate,” Pastor Ruth said.
“Trying to paint you as unstable, unfit. But desperation makes people sloppy.” She reached across the desk to pat Alana’s hand. “You’ve got truth on your side, child. And truth has patience.”
“Patience.” Alana stood pacing behind her desk. “They’re escalating, Pastor. First the traffic stop, then CPS, planted drugs, now forged medical records. What’s next?”
“The higher they stack their lies, the harder they’ll fall.” Pastor Ruth’s voice held the quiet authority of decades counseling families through crisis. “Document everything. Build your case brick by brick. Don’t let them bait you into a mistake.”
Noah gurgled from his play pen, and Alana lifted him out, breathing in his baby scent. “I have to protect him.” “And you will, by fighting smart, not angry.” Pastor Ruth stood, adjusting her cardigan.
“Come to Wednesday night prayer meeting. The congregation should hear what’s happening from you, not rumors.” After Pastor Ruth left, Alana worked late into the evening, Noah dozing beside her as she documented timeline discrepancies between the fake report and her actual whereabouts. She was about to pack up when her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
“Miss Pierce, you don’t know me. I’m Amy Chen’s roommate. Officer Mercer is dating Amy. Need to show you something important. Can prove it’s real.”
Attached was a screenshot of text messages. “Kyle pulled the state’s attorney today.” “Amy: OMG. What happened?” “Kyle should have cuffed her. Would have been legendary.”
“Amy: You’re crazy. She could get her fired.” “Kyle: Now we got dirt on her now. She’ll back off.” Alana’s hands were steady as she texted back.
“How did you get this?” “Amy left her phone unlocked. I saw the texts. She’s been bragging about dating a cop. But this isn’t right.”
“Can we meet?” Alana considered. This could be another trap, but the texts matched the timeline perfectly. “Tomorrow morning, 8:00 a.m. Sunrise Diner on Oak Street.”
“Public place. Security cameras. I’ll be there, table by the window, wearing red sweater.” Alana looked at the screenshot again. Mercer’s cockiness might be their undoing, but she needed to verify the texts were genuine, understand this roommate’s motivation.
She texted Sarah to clear her morning schedule, then began researching Amy Chen and her roommate. Noah stirred, making small hungry sounds. As she prepared his bottle, Alana ran through her mental checklist. Verify the roommate’s identity.
Bring a witness to the meeting. Record everything. The texts could be crucial evidence or another elaborate setup. She settled into the nursing chair, cradling Noah as he drank, his tiny hand curled around her finger, trusting, dependent.
The weight of her responsibility pressed down, not just to him, but to every parent who’d been harassed. Every citizen bullied by those sworn to protect them. “We’ll get through this, sweet boy,” she whispered, stroking his cheek. “Mama’s going to make sure those bad men can’t hurt anyone else.”
The city lights twinkled beyond her office window as she rocked Noah, reviewing her notes for tomorrow’s meeting. Each piece of evidence was a thread, the planted drugs, the forged report, and now these texts. Slowly but surely, she was weaving together the rope that would hang them with their own actions. The Sunrise Diner buzzed with morning regulars when Alana arrived at 7:45 a.m.
She’d positioned Detective Marcus by the counter and two plain clothes officers at separate tables. Through the window, she spotted a young Asian woman in a red sweater, nervously checking her phone. Alana smoothed her blazer and entered, scanning the room before approaching. “Ms. uh Chen’s roommate?”
“Jenny Woo.” The woman’s hands trembled slightly as she pulled out her phone. “I brought everything.” Alana settled into the booth, positioning herself to see both exits.
A waitress approached, but Alana waved her off. “Show me.” Jenny unlocked her phone and pulled up the text thread. “Amy leaves her phone everywhere.”
“She thinks it’s cute how Kyle brags about his stops.” She scrolled through weeks of messages. “But this one felt different. Wrong.” Alana studied the timestamps, noting how they aligned perfectly with her traffic stop.
The metadata looked authentic. No signs of manipulation. “Why are you showing me this?” Jenny’s voice dropped.
“My brother got arrested last year. Resisting arrest, they said. But he was just walking home from work.” She twisted a paper napkin. “They planted drugs in his backpack just like they tried with you.”