THE TRIAL
The trial began six months later.
It was held in Boston, in a courtroom so old and grand that it felt like a cathedral. The gallery was packed with journalists, victims’ families, and curious onlookers. Maya sat in the front row, her notebook in her lap, her eyes on the defendant.
Vance looked different. Thinner. Grayer. The gentle smile was gone. In its place, something hollow.
The prosecution called witness after witness. The families. The survivors. The experts who explained how Vance had manipulated his patients, how he had used their trust against them, how he had pushed them toward death.
Maya was the last witness.
She walked to the stand. Raised her right hand. Swore to tell the truth.
The prosecutor approached.
“Ms. Cross, can you describe your first meeting with Dr. Vance?”
Maya described the waiting room. The beige walls. The gentle fountain. The way he had smiled at her like he already knew her.
“Can you describe the recording you made of Dr. Vance?”
Maya described the bridge. The water. The words he had said.
“Can you describe the moment you decided to jump?”
Maya looked at Vance.
“I didn’t decide to jump. I decided to survive.”
The prosecutor nodded.
“No further questions.”
The defense attorney approached. A woman in an expensive suit, her face sharp.
“Ms. Cross, isn’t it true that you broke into Dr. Vance’s office? And his home? And his patient’s apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that you were arrested for breaking and entering?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t it true that you were obsessed with Dr. Vance? That you stalked him? That you fabricated evidence to make him look guilty?”
“No.”
The attorney raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“I was obsessed with the truth. I broke into his office to find it. I broke into his home to find it. I broke into his patient’s apartment to find it. And I found it. The recordings. The photographs. The spreadsheet. The faces of the women he killed.”
The attorney was silent.
“Nothing further.”
Maya stepped down.
She walked past Vance.
He didn’t look at her.
She didn’t look at him.
THE VERDICT
The jury deliberated for three days.
Maya spent them in a hotel room in Boston, watching the news, pacing the floor, calling Danny every hour.
On the third day, the verdict came.
She walked to the courthouse. Sat in the front row. Held Rachel Bennett’s hand.
The judge looked at the jury foreman.
“Have you reached a verdict?”
“We have.”
“Please read it.”
The foreman unfolded a piece of paper.
“On the charge of murder in the first degree of Sarah Chen, we find the defendant… guilty.”
Maya’s heart raced.
“On the charge of murder in the first degree of Elena Vasquez… guilty.”
Rachel squeezed her hand.
“On the charge of murder in the first degree of Clara Bennett… guilty.”
Kaela was crying.
“On the charge of attempted murder of Kaela Morgan… guilty.”
“On the charge of attempted murder of Maya Cross… guilty.”
“On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder… guilty.”
“On the charge of obstruction of justice… guilty.”
“On the charge of witness tampering… guilty.”
The foreman looked at the judge.
“We find the defendant guilty on all counts.”
The courtroom erupted.
Vance stood at the defense table, his face expressionless.
The judge looked at him.
“Dr. Elias Vance, you have been found guilty of the most heinous crimes. You manipulated vulnerable women. You pushed them toward death. You destroyed families. You destroyed lives. I sentence you to life in prison without the possibility of parole.”
She banged her gavel.
Vance was led away.
Maya watched him go.
She didn’t feel victorious.
She felt empty.