When Nia spoke again, her voice had shifted to what the team used to call her mission mode. Text me the address. I'll bring my laptop. And Dante, don't forward those emails to anyone else. Don't let them know you have them.
Already ahead of you, Dante replied. Sierra's got recordings, too. Multiple witnesses ready to talk. Good. Nia said, "We'll need everything.
These small town power structures, they're like fortresses. But they all have weak points if you know where to look. An hour later, Nia sat at Dante's kitchen table, her laptop open as she read through the email chain. Her expression grew darker with each message. "This is gold, Dante," she said finally looking up.
"But it's just the beginning. That Anderson case they mentioned. I remember hearing whispers, but the family wouldn't talk to anyone. If we can find them, "How do we play this?" Dante asked, sliding a cup of coffee across the table to her. Nia took a sip, her reporter's mind already mapping out angles.
"We go slow, quiet, build the case first. I'll start digging into property records, schoolboard minutes, transfer patterns, see who else left town." Suddenly, follow the paper trail. She set down her cup, meeting Dante's steady gaze. This isn't just about Sierra anymore. You know that, right?
I know. Dante nodded. That's why I called you. These people need to be exposed. All of them.
It won't be easy. Nia warned. Sheriff's got friends in high places. School boards probably in on it, too. When has that ever stopped us?
Dante asked, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. Nia matched his expression, remembering other missions, other fights. Never has, never will, she turned back to her laptop, fingers flying over the keys. Let's get to work. Sierra walked through Ridge View's main entrance, her head held high despite the whispers that followed her like shadows.
3 Days of suspension hadn't changed much except maybe made the stairs a little bolder, the whispers a little louder. "There's the karate girl," someone muttered. "Heard she almost killed Chase," another voice added. Sierra kept walking. The tiny microphone clipped inside her collar, capturing everything.
Her dad's training echoed in her mind. "Let them talk. Every word they say is evidence. At her locker, she noticed something different. Two black students from her English class gave her subtle nods as they passed.
A Latino boy she'd never spoken to made eye contact and touched his fist to his heart. Small gestures, but they carried weight. During second period, a folded note landed on her desk. Sierra opened it carefully, ready for another threat. Instead, she found neat handwriting.