Came Home From Deployment Early. Daughter Was Standing in a Hole. «Don’t Look In Other One!»
The FBI extracted them two days later. Eric and Derek watched from a distance as helicopters took Carlson and Drew away.
«Mission accomplished?» Derek asked.
«Not yet. Not until they’re all convicted and locked away.»
«You know they might not all go to prison. Good lawyers, technicalities, deals.»
«Then I’ll make sure they suffer in other ways. These people destroyed Emma’s childhood. They murdered children. They don’t get to walk away.»
They flew back to Montana. Emma was waiting, and she ran into Eric’s arms.
«I missed you, Daddy.»
«I missed you too, baby. So much.»
«Can we go home now?»
Eric looked at Derek, who nodded. The immediate threat was gone. Carlson and Drew were in custody. The others were too afraid or too broke to run.
«Yeah, we can go home.»
They returned to Pennsylvania a week later. The house felt empty without Brenda, but Emma didn’t seem to mind. She was just happy to be back in her own room with her own things.
Eric enrolled her in a new school, farther from town. A fresh start. New friends who didn’t know about the scandal. Therapy twice a week to help her process the trauma. And slowly, painfully, they built a new life.
The trial started six months after Emma’s rescue. Myrtle was first. The prosecution laid out a damning case: physical evidence of the graves, testimony from surviving children, financial records proving it was a criminal enterprise. Myrtle’s defense tried to claim she was helping troubled children, that the deaths were accidental, that she’d been pressured by her brother Herman.
The jury didn’t buy it. Guilty on all counts. Four consecutive life sentences without parole.
Herman’s trial was next. His lawyers tried to paint him as a victim of his sister’s manipulation. But with his own testimony about arranging «permanent solutions,» it was hopeless. Guilty. Life without parole.
Christina Slaughter got twenty years for conspiracy and obstruction. Kent Booker, the deputy, got fifteen. Kristi North, the supervisor, got ten.
Brenda’s trial was the hardest for Eric to watch. She looked small and broken on the stand, crying as she described how she’d been desperate for money, how she believed her mother’s lies about helping children. The prosecutor wasn’t sympathetic. He showed the jury recordings of Brenda pitching the program to parents, described the $100,000 she’d made, and detailed the suffering of the children she’d sent.
Emma didn’t attend the trial. She was too young. And the lawyers agreed her testimony via video deposition was enough. But Eric was there every day, watching the mother of his child be convicted of conspiracy to commit child abuse.
Five years. She’d serve at least three before parole eligibility.
The other parents’ trials dragged on for another year. Carlson and Drew, true to their word, testified against everyone. The state senator got life. The CEO got 30 years. The businessman got 25. In total, 23 people were convicted in connection with the New Beginnings conspiracy. Hundreds of years of prison time. Millions in restitution to the victims’ families.
But for Eric, the real victory was watching Emma heal. Slowly, the nightmares faded. She started smiling again, making jokes, playing with friends. She was still affected by what happened—probably always would be—but she was surviving. Thriving, even.
Two years after the rescue, Eric sat in family court for the final hearing. The judge, a woman who’d reviewed all the evidence and all the testimonies, looked down at him and Emma.
«Mr. McKenzie, you’ve done an admirable job raising your daughter under extremely difficult circumstances. The court finds that you are a fit and loving parent. Ms. McKenzie’s parental rights are hereby permanently terminated. Full custody is granted to you.»
Emma squeezed his hand. «Does this mean Mom can’t take me back?»
«Never,» Eric said. «You’re mine forever.»
That night, they had a quiet celebration at home. Pizza, ice cream, a movie. Just the two of them. The way it had been for two years now.
«Daddy,» Emma asked during the movie.
«Yeah, baby.»
«Thank you for saving me.»
Eric pulled her close. «You don’t have to thank me. That’s what dads do.»
«Not all dads. Some of those kids… their dads were the bad ones.»
«I know. And I’m sorry they didn’t have someone to protect them.»
«But you made sure the bad guys got punished. You made sure they couldn’t hurt anyone else.»
«I tried.»
«You did more than try. You won.»
Eric thought about that. He’d won, yes. But at what cost? His marriage was over. His daughter was traumatized. Families were destroyed. Lives were lost. But Emma was alive. She was healing. She was safe. And the people who’d hurt her were locked away forever.
Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was victory.
Five years later, Eric stood in the backyard of their new house. A smaller place in a better neighborhood, closer to Emma’s school. She was twelve now, tall and confident, captain of her soccer team. The nightmares were rare. The therapy had worked. She was going to be okay.
Donald Gillespie came over for a barbecue, as he did every month or so. They’d become close friends after everything. Don had retired from the force, citing disillusionment with the system that had let the Savages operate for so long.
«How’s she doing?» Don asked, watching Emma play with the neighbor’s dog.
«Good. Great, actually. Straight A’s. Lots of friends. Happy. You’d never know.»
«But you know.»
«Yeah. I know.» Eric flipped a burger. «Got a letter from Brenda last week.»
«What did she say?»
«That she’s sorry. That she’s been sober for two years. That she wants to see Emma when she gets out.»
«When is that?»
«Next year if she makes parole.»
«What are you going to tell her?»
«I’m going to tell Emma. Let her decide. She’s old enough now to make that choice.»
Don nodded. «That’s fair.»
They ate in comfortable silence for a while. Then Don said, «You know, I think about those kids sometimes. The ones who didn’t make it. Sarah. Marcus. The others. I wonder what they’d be doing now if they’d lived.»
«Me too.»
«You did good, Eric. You made sure their deaths meant something. You made sure no one could ignore what happened.»
«Doesn’t bring them back.»
«No. But it stopped it from happening to more kids. That’s worth something.»
Eric looked at his daughter, laughing and healthy and alive. «Yeah. It is.»
That night, after Don left and Emma was asleep, Eric sat on the porch with a beer, thinking about the last five years. The trials, the convictions, the slow rebuilding of his life.
He thought about Myrtle rotting in a maximum-security prison. About Herman, who’d been attacked by other inmates and lost the use of his left eye. About Brenda, who’d written monthly letters that Eric rarely answered.
He thought about the parents who’d sent their children to die. Some were in prison. Some had lost everything even without conviction. All of them would carry the shame for the rest of their lives.
And he thought about the children. The seven who’d died. The dozens who’d survived but were scarred. Emma, who’d been hours away from becoming another statistic.
Justice had been served. The guilty had been punished. The conspiracy had been exposed and destroyed. But Eric knew the truth. This would happen again somewhere else. Different names. Different place. Same evil. People who valued money and power over children’s lives. People who thought they were untouchable.
His job was to make sure Emma was ready for a world like that. To teach her to be strong. To be smart. To fight back against evil in all its forms.
She was already well on her way. Smart. Tough. Compassionate. She volunteered at a children’s shelter now, helping kids who’d been through trauma. She said it helped her process her own experiences.
Eric was proud of her. Prouder than he’d ever been of anything he’d accomplished in the military.
His phone buzzed. A text from Derek.
“Saw the news. Another abuse case in Ohio. Similar setup. Thought you should know.”
Eric stared at the message for a long time. Then he typed back.
“Send me the details.”
Because justice was never finished. Evil was never completely defeated. But someone had to stand against it. Someone had to fight for the children who couldn’t fight for themselves.
And Eric McKenzie would always be that someone. He’d proven it once. He’d do it again if he had to. For Emma. For Sarah. For all the children who deserved better than the world had given them.
He’d won this battle. He’d win the next one too. He always did.
