Chapter 4 - The House of Cards
Back at the house, crime scene technicians were dusting for prints and bagging evidence. Jessica sat at her own dining room table, flanked by two officers who looked like they were enjoying every second of her plummet from grace.
When Vance and I walked in, she stood up so fast her chair screeched against the hardwood.
"Where is my son?" she demanded, pointing a manicured finger straight at my chest. "What have you done to him, you corrupt, backwoods thug? I am calling my lawyers right now—this entire farce is going to cost every single badge in this county!"
I walked over to the mahogany desk where she kept her phone, picked up a framed photograph of Michael smiling at a charity gala, and set it face down.
"Save your breath, Jessica," I said calmly. "Your son is currently being booked downtown without bond. And as for your lawyers? I suggest they brush up on federal wire fraud and conspiracy to commit perjury."
Her face drained of all color, leaving her skin looking like curdled milk. "What... what are you talking about?"
"We ran a forensic audit on your family foundation and your medical billing practices this past hour," Vance chimed in, tossing a manila folder onto the table in front of her. "It turns out paying off local clinics to falsify trauma reports leaves a very distinct paper trail—especially when the payments come straight from a corporate tax shelter registered under your name."
Jessica stared at the folder as if it were a venomous snake. The ironclad control she had wielded over everyone around her for decades was shattering piece by piece.
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"You think you're clever," she whispered, her voice trembling with venom. "You think destroying my family makes you a hero. But Michael will walk. He always walks."
"Not this time," I said, leaning down so our eyes were level. "Because this time, the old man in the pickup didn't just come to pick up his daughter. He came to take down an empire built on fear."
