Chapter 4 - The Audit
Special Agent Marcus Vance didn't look like a federal investigator straight out of television central casting. He wore a rumpled gray tweed jacket, carried a scuffed leather briefcase, and drove an unremarkable silver sedan that blended seamlessly into the damp Duluth fog when he pulled up to my driveway at 11:15 PM.
I let him in through the side door, leading him directly to the dining room table where the black folder still lay open.
Agent Vance didn't waste time with platitudes. He didn't offer hollow condolences about my husband or my daughter; he understood that time was our most critical currency. He sat down, pulled out a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses, and began skimming Anthony’s documents.
“Your husband was thorough,” Vance said quietly, his eyes scanning the forensic accounting sheets. “Too thorough for his own good. This isn't just local municipal graft. This links directly to the state transportation board’s capital allocation committee. Your father didn't just buy zoning permits; he was funneled millions in kickbacks through fictitious subcontractor bids.”
“They killed him, Agent Vance,” I said, my voice steady, though my hands gripped the edge of the table. “And they killed my seven-year-old daughter. The truck that hit their car was registered to a shell company tied to my brother’s development group.”
Vance looked up, his sharp gray eyes meeting mine. “We suspected the accident report had anomalies. The local police department closed the investigation within forty-eight hours, ruling it driver fatigue. Convenient, considering the local police chief’s pension fund is managed by your father’s financial firm.”
“What do we do?” I asked.
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“We don't arrest them tonight,” Vance replied, closing the folder and sliding it into his briefcase. “If we move now, your father’s legal team will flush the offshore accounts and bury the paper trail in injunctions. We let them think they won. We let your brother go through with his financing pitch tomorrow morning at the city municipal building. When he signs the final contract using illicitly transferred funds, that’s when we drop the hammer on the entire board.”
I nodded slowly. “Let them hang themselves with their own ink.”
