Chapter 6 - The Sanctuary in Burlington
Six months after the federal trials, the crisp golden chill of autumn painted the trees around Lake Champlain in brilliant shades of amber, scarlet, and gold.
I purchased a magnificent, seventy-acre country farmstead nestled on the outskirts of Burlington, Vermont. The property featured an historic, restored timber-framed farmhouse, expansive apple orchards, a babbling freshwater brook, and a panoramic view of the Adirondack Mountains across the blue lake.
I opened my own independent forensic risk advisory firm, Vance Integrity Solutions, specializing in auditing municipal supply chains and helping non-profit charities protect vulnerable estates from corporate embezzlement.
I adopted a rescued golden retriever named Barnaby, who spent his mornings running through the apple orchards while I drank warm coffee on the wrap-around cedar porch.
For the first time in four years, I slept through the night without waking in terror. My food tasted pure, the air felt clean, and my life belonged entirely to me.
One crisp morning in October, while reviewing state contract audits on my porch, a dark green Subaru pulled up the gravel driveway.
Stepping out of the vehicle was Marcus Vance.
He had retired from the FBI six months earlier, accepting a position as the Director of Corporate Compliance for a prestigious New England university. He was dressed in a comfortable wool sweater and dark denim, holding a basket of fresh, warm maple pastries.
May you like
"Hannah," Marcus smiled warmly, walking up the porch steps. "I was in Burlington for a regional conference and thought I'd check on my favorite forensic investigator."
"Marcus," I beamed, standing up and opening the screen door. "You're just in time for fresh roast coffee."
