Chapter 68 - Shadows in the Pews
"You forgot one thing, Julian," I said, keeping my flashlight trained directly on his eyes, forcing him to squint against the beam.
"I doubt that very much," he replied, tapping the tip of his cane against the pews. "I have the federal powers of attorney, I have the death certificate recanted through the probate court in Suffolk County, and I have three men sitting outside in an unmarked Suburban waiting for my phone call."
"Detective Miller isn't just investigating Melissa," I said, taking half a step backward toward the vestry door. "Marcus didn't run an offshore account alone. The wire transfers from Montreal—the ones flagged by the Treasury last week—came out of a commercial escrow account registered to *Thorne & Associates, Commonwealth Avenue*."
Julian’s smug expression didn't slip, but his grip tightened on the silver head of his cane until his leather glove creaked.
"A clerical coincidence," he murmured. "Easily untangled by a competent firm."
"No," I countered, pulling my phone from my pocket and holding it up so the blue LED showed clearly in the shadows. "The recording started the moment I pulled into the lot. And Miller’s squad car didn't turn back to town. They went to the crossroads to block the state route."
May you like
From the woods behind the church, the distant wail of a siren rose through the mist, faint but unmistakable, climbing the steep ridge toward St. Jude’s.
Julian took a sharp breath, his jaw tightening. "You think you're clever, little girl. You think because you drove a tractor and counted pennies you understand how property works in this country. That box doesn't just contain a deed. It contains the ledger that will put every Vance who ever drew breath into a federal penitentiary."
