Chapter 5 - THE WEB UNRAVELSBy noon, the investigation had expanded far beyond a simple domestic disturbance.
Federal agents from the FBI’s white-collar crime division, coordinated through my CID credentials, had descended upon the regional bank where Marcus and Chloe held their accounts. Within hours, they froze twelve distinct shell corporations linked to Chloe’s maiden name—corporations that had been used to siphon over two million dollars from elderly victims across three neighboring states over the past four years.
Chloe Davis wasn't just a greedy housewife with expensive tastes. She was a professional predator—a con artist specializing in elder financial exploitation, operating under multiple aliases, who had targeted my brother specifically because of his weak character and access to our father’s substantial real estate holdings.
I sat in the observation room of the county jail, watching Chloe through the one-way glass.
She was no longer crying. She was pacing the concrete floor like a caged panther, her manicured nails clawing at her arms, screaming obscenities at the guard outside her door. Her entire polished persona had dissolved, revealing the desperate, vicious criminal underneath.
The door behind me clicked open, and Captain Vance walked in, tossing a fresh file onto the table.
"You smell like coffee and vengeance, Agent Vance," Vance said, leaning against the wall with a tired smile. "Just got off the phone with the District Attorney. Because of the federal wire fraud and interstate financial conspiracy elements you uncovered, the feds are stepping in to take primary jurisdiction on the financial crimes. But the local D.A. is keeping the attempted murder, aggravated elder abuse, and conspiracy charges right here in Marion County."
He paused, looking at me with deep respect. "They're never seeing daylight again. Even with a high-priced defense attorney, the physical evidence, the bank trails, and the toxicology reports make this an open-and-shut case. They’re looking at a minimum of thirty to forty years without parole."
"Good," I replied coldly. "Make sure they're held in separate maximum-security blocks. I don't want them communicating or coordinating a shared story before trial."
"Already handled," Vance nodded. "By the way... how is your father doing?"
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"He's resting," I said, a soft warmth breaking through the ice in my chest for the first time in twenty-four hours. "The doctors say the sedatives are out of his system. His mind is clearing up already. He remembered my name the second he woke up."
Vance smiled gently. "Good. He raised a hell of a daughter."
