Chapter 11 - CASSANDRA
The woman who entered the motel room was the same woman from the hotel photograph.
Cassandra Vale.
She was taller than I expected.
Mid-thirties.
Blond hair pulled back.
Expensive coat.
No baseball bat.
No gun.
Somehow that made her scarier.
She closed the door behind her.
“You brought your mother.”
Ethan stood in front of me.
“She came on her own.”
Cassandra looked at him.
“You are a terrible liar.”
Then she looked at me.
“Patricia.”
I stared at her.
“You stole my money.”
“No.”
“You helped him.”
“Yes.”
The honesty startled me.
Ethan whispered, “Cass.”
“Be quiet.”
He actually obeyed.
Cassandra walked to the small table and sat.
“You should sit too.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re seventy?”
“Sixty-four.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
She smiled slightly.
I hated her immediately.
“What do you want?”
“Your son owes people money.”
“I know.”
“He also owes me.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Then sue him.”
She laughed.
“You really don’t know what he’s been doing.”
“I’m learning.”
Cassandra leaned back.
“Your son did not lose all your money gambling.”
I looked at Ethan.
He stared at the carpet.
“How much?”
“About two hundred thousand was gambling loss.”
My heart pounded.
“And the rest?”
“Movement.”
“What does that mean?”
“Money in. Money out. Laundered through payment processors. Crypto. Business accounts.”
I stepped toward Ethan.
“You used my money to move stolen money?”
He looked sick.
“I didn’t understand all of it.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes.
“He understood enough.”
Outside, I could hear a car in the parking lot.
Hale was somewhere nearby.
I hoped he was hearing this.
Cassandra continued.
“Ethan had access to clean accounts with long banking histories.”
Mine.
Robert’s.
Nicole’s.
“He let people use them?”
“Yes.”
“For money?”
“Yes.”
“How much did he make?”
“Initially? Ten percent.”
I laughed bitterly.
“My son sold my identity for ten percent.”
Ethan whispered, “It wasn’t like that.”
I turned on him.
“You keep saying that. Maybe stop doing things that are exactly like that.”
Cassandra smiled.
I looked at her.
“This is funny?”
“No. That was just good.”
I wanted to slap her too.
Instead I said, “Why are you here?”
“Because Ethan stole from the wrong people.”
“He stole from everybody.”
“He diverted a transfer.”
Ethan looked up.
“Cassandra.”
She ignored him.
“Two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
I stared.
“Where is it?”
“That’s what I came to ask.”
Ethan said, “I don’t have it.”
Cassandra’s face went flat.
“Then you’re useless.”
My skin crawled.
“What happens if he doesn’t have it?”
She looked at me.
“Not my decision.”
“Whose?”
She smiled.
“That’s the problem with criminal organizations. Nobody prints an employee directory.”
Behind me, Ethan moved suddenly.
He grabbed the motel lamp and smashed it against Cassandra’s shoulder.
She screamed.
I jumped back.
Ethan ran for the door.
Cassandra tackled him before he reached it.
They crashed into the wall.
The door flew open.
Detective Hale entered with two officers.
“POLICE! HANDS!”
Cassandra froze.
Ethan did not.
He ran straight into the parking lot.
Again.
I almost screamed from frustration.
Hale chased him.
One officer cuffed Cassandra.
The other stayed with me.
Ethan reached the edge of the lot.
A car horn blared.
Tires screamed.
He stumbled backward as a pickup truck nearly hit him.
Hale tackled him to the pavement.
This time, Ethan stayed down.
When they brought him back, his cheek was bleeding.
He looked at me.
“You set me up.”
I stared at him.
“You set me up first.”
Hale reached inside my sweater and removed the recording device.
“We got everything.”
Cassandra laughed from the ground.
Ethan closed his eyes.
It should have felt like victory.
It didn’t.
Because when Hale searched Ethan’s jacket, he found a flash drive.
On it were financial files.
Hundreds of them.
Names.
Social Security numbers.
Bank accounts.
Tax returns.
Medical bills.
May you like
And one folder labeled:
PATRICIA — FINAL.
