“The tea was not matcha, Patricia,” Colonel Carter said softly:
“It was an un-approved, high-potency neuro-inhibitor designed to produce progressive postural ataxia, retrograde amnesia, and synthetic grand mal seizures.”
“You have been micro-dosing your daughter-in-law for eleven months.”
“You timed the dosages to coincide with her court appearances, her pediatric evaluations, and her meetings with her family attorneys.”
Carter leaned forward until his gray eyes filled Daniel Whitaker’s entire field of vision:
“And you, Daniel…”
The Colonel’s voice dropped another five decibels, chilling the very marrow in the young executive’s bones:
“You didn’t empty that joint account to pay for custody litigation.”
“You emptied that account to buy sixty thousand shares in **The Valkyrie Holding Corp in Vaduz, Liechtenstein**.”
***
CHAPTER 3: THE AUDIT ON THE BENCH
Judge Richard Hanley stood behind his high walnut bench.
The sixty-eight-year-old jurist, who had presided over the Douglas County District Court for twenty-two years, looked as though his skeleton had just been liquefied by high-pressure steam.
