Chapter 7 - THE MONEY TRAIL
Detective Morales hated rich people’s crimes.
Not rich people.
Their crimes.
Poor criminals left fingerprints.
Rich criminals left corporations.
By noon, forensic accountant Joel Meyer had mapped seven companies connected to Gideon Voss.
Three existed only on paper.
Two shared the same registered agent.
One had transferred $180,000 to Grant over fourteen months.
Northstar Outreach had received $96,000.
Vanessa’s company.
Meyer tapped the screen.
“Here’s the interesting part.”
Morales leaned closer.
“Payment dates?”
“Exactly.”
Every large payment to Grant was followed within a week by a major conflict between Grant and Evelyn.
Evelyn refused to amend her trust.
Thirty thousand dollars.
Evelyn refused to sell Calloway Place.
Twenty-five thousand.
Evelyn threatened to contact an attorney over visitation.
Forty thousand.
Morales stared.
“He was being paid to isolate her.”
“And pressure her.”
“Using his own daughter.”
Meyer nodded grimly.
“There’s more.”
He opened another account.
“This payment went to Vanessa yesterday morning.”
“Before the flooding?”
“Six hours before.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“For what?”
“No memo.”
Morales thought about the fake passport.
The cash.
The gun.
“Travel money.”
“Could be.”
Her phone rang.
Dana Pierce.
Morales answered.
“Tell me.”
“Evelyn just called. She thinks someone drove past her house three times.”
“What vehicle?”
“Black SUV.”
Morales stood.
“Keep her inside. Lock everything.”
“I already told her.”
“Police unit?”
“On the way.”
Morales grabbed her coat.
“Where’s Maisie?”
“With Evelyn.”
“Do not let either of them leave.”
When Morales reached Evelyn’s neighborhood, two patrol cars were already outside.
The black SUV was gone.
Evelyn stood behind the front door.
“You’re sure it was the same vehicle?”
“Black Escalade. Dark windows.”
“Plate?”
“Couldn’t see it.”
Maisie sat in the living room watching a cartoon.
Volume low.
Benny tucked under one arm.
Morales turned to Evelyn.
“I need you to think. Does Voss know this house?”
“He knows everything.”
“Meaning?”
“He had me followed years ago.”
“Did you report it?”
“He owned half the people I could have reported it to.”
Morales stared.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“It was a serious time.”
A sound came from the kitchen.
Both women turned.
The back door.
Three knocks.
Evelyn went pale.
Nobody moved.
Three more knocks.
Morales drew her weapon.
“Stay here.”
She moved through the kitchen.
“Police. Identify yourself.”
A male voice answered.
“Delivery.”
Morales looked through the side glass.
Teenage kid.
Pizza uniform.
She opened the door a crack.
“We didn’t order anything.”
He checked his phone.
“Calloway?”
“No.”
“Sorry.”
He walked away.
Morales holstered her weapon.
Evelyn exhaled.
Then Maisie said from the living room, “Vanessa’s here.”
Every muscle in Morales’s body tightened.
She rushed back.
Maisie was standing at the window.
Pointing.
Across the street, beside a silver sedan, stood Vanessa.
No coat.
Hair loose.
Eyes fixed on the house.
Morales opened the front door.
“Vanessa!”
Vanessa turned.
For a second, she looked ready to run.
Then Maisie pushed past Evelyn.
“Vanessa!”
“No!” Evelyn grabbed her.
Vanessa’s face crumpled.
She took one step toward the house.
Morales moved between them.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Vanessa raised both hands.
“I’m not here to hurt her.”
“You violated instructions not to leave town.”
“I know.”
“You have a weapon?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Car.”
Morales’s voice hardened.
“Turn around.”
“Detective, listen to me.”
“Turn around.”
“He knows.”
Morales stopped.
“Who knows?”
Vanessa looked at Evelyn.
“Gideon knows Maisie is here.”
Evelyn’s face drained.
“How?”
“Because Grant told him.”
Vanessa looked toward the end of the street.
May you like
The black SUV turned the corner.
“He’s coming.”
