Chapter 7 - The Farmhouse
By four o'clock in the morning, the small, fluorescent-lit briefing room of the Mecklenburg County Sheriff’s Department was packed with armed officers, State Bureau of Investigation agents, and child protective service directors.
I sat in a folding chair in the corner, wrapped in a heavy wool police blanket, a warm paper cup of black coffee untouched in my hands. A female detective named Miller sat beside me, gently cleaning the mud and dried blood from Lily’s scraped knees.
Lily was sitting on a small cot, wearing a grey police sweatshirt three sizes too big for her. She was holding a warm juice box, her eyes fixed on the floor, but her breathing was finally slow and steady.
On the white dry-erase board at the front of the room, Detective Miller had pinned three documents: the placement ledger, the Polaroid photo, and a mugshot of Eric Vance taken during a DUI arrest eight years ago.
Lead Detective Vance—no relation to Daniel—turned to face the room.
“We’ve secured a federal search warrant for 11422 Old Concord Road based on Mrs. Vance’s testimony and the physical evidence recovered from the home,” Detective Vance announced, his voice gruff, tired, and sharp. “Tactical team Alpha is already staging at the perimeter. We have reason to believe Eric Vance is currently inside the residence, and Daniel Vance’s truck was spotted passing a traffic camera near the property twenty minutes ago.”
I stood up, the wool blanket slipping from my shoulders. “He’s going there to destroy the evidence. He told me there’s a box under the floorboards.”
Detective Vance looked at me, his eyes solemn, heavy with sympathy. “Mrs. Vance, I need you to stay here with Lily. My team will handle this.”
“No,” Lily’s small voice suddenly rang through the quiet room.
Everyone turned to look at the little girl.
She set her juice box down on the cot. She stood up, her bare feet white against the cold linoleum, walking over to where Detective Vance stood near the board.
She reached out her hand, pointing directly at the bottom right corner of the aerial map of the property.
“Not under the house,” Lily whispered, her voice clear, firm, and devoid of the terror that had consumed her all morning. “Under the shed. Near the blue tractor. There’s a metal door in the dirt.”
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Detective Vance stared at her, his jaw slowly tightening as the weight of her words hit every officer in the room.
“Unit Four,” Vance spoke into his radio, his tone dropping into a dark, lethal register. “Tell SWAT to bypass the main residence. Target the detached barn on the south side of the property. Move in now.”
