by Carsen Taite
Peyton wished she’d spent more time over the past few weeks getting to know the other agents better, but they’d all been scattered in the field, gathering clues. The only report she’d received over the weekend was that an extensive search of the warehouse had yielded only cartons of innocuous supplies and volumes of records that might or might not be in code. At her instruction, forensic analysts were rushing to make sense of the records. It might be days before they had any actionable information, but she’d have to tell Lily about her father tonight or run the risk of her finding out on her own. The fact the warehouse had been designated a crime scene made it only a matter of time before Lily knew Peyton had been keeping the investigation into her father from her.
The ringing phone jerked Peyton from her thoughts. She watched while her mother answered, said a few short words, and then hung up.
“Well?” Peyton asked.
“Roscoe has an affidavit ready for you. He plans to file the request for a court order as soon as you sign it.”
Peyton was already out of her chair and across the room. “I’ll call you when I know more. Send Andy and a couple of the other guys down to the site to keep an eye on things. If Neil or any of Gantry’s guys show up, let me know.”
Minutes later, she was in her truck and headed for downtown. She used the thirty-minute drive to sort through the facts of the case against Cyrus Gantry and the Vargas brothers. They had enough from Carmen Chavez and the others they’d arrested to prosecute the Vargases as part of a drug conspiracy, but to take down their entire operation they needed to cut off their supply lines and funding. If Cyrus Gantry was the Vargases’ secret weapon, bringing him to justice was their only method of shutting the Vargases down for good.
She shuddered to think how Lily would feel when she found out her father was working with drug dealers. Would Lily turn to her for comfort or lash out in anger? Whatever the outcome, she had no choice but to do what was right.
Roscoe’s office was a restored Victorian house in Uptown, and Peyton pulled her truck into the small parking lot and walked across the wide porch. The door swung open as she approached, and she found herself enveloped in a hug.
“Peyton Davis! You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Peyton returned the hug and stepped back to appraise her old friend, Charlene Farley. Roscoe’s daughter had graduated from law school with her and gone directly into the family business. They hadn’t seen each other in years, but Charlene looked exactly the same—petite, pretty, and blond, three factors that often caused opponents to underestimate her tenacity and skill. “It’s great to see you. You look good.”
Charlene held the door open and waved Peyton inside. “Dad said you were coming by, so I’ve been watching out the window. I’m glad to see you, but sorry about the circumstances.”
“Me too. I hate going this route, but I don’t think we have any other choice.”
“Sometimes that’s just the way it is. I’m sure Neil means well, but he’s gotten a bit shortsighted. He got pretty upset when I told him there wasn’t any legal way to avoid tax consequences on the advance. Stormed out, saying he didn’t know why you all bothered to keep us on retainer.”
Peyton’s ears buzzed. “Advance? I think I’m missing something.”
“On the contract with the exploration company.” Charlene paused as if waiting for Peyton to catch on. “He wouldn’t show me the contract, but apparently there was a hundred grand advance. He said he’d heard something about making cash deposits under ten grand at a time in order to avoid taxes. I told him that was probably the easiest way to trigger an audit. Banks watch for that kind of thing. It’s called—”
“Structuring,” Peyton said. “Hold up a minute. I’ve seen the contract with Ray Explorations. Neil didn’t get an advance. It’s a simple flat fee, not even a big one, for use of the land to conduct testing. We only earn royalties when the well comes in.”
“That’s the first I’ve heard about this,” Roscoe said as he entered the room.
Charlene shrugged. “He came by last week. Maybe he was talking new terms with the company and the advance wasn’t finalized yet. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it, but I had no idea the original contract didn’t contain an advance. I assumed you already knew about it.”
“Not your fault,” Peyton said, her mind whirring. What was Neil up to? If he’d collected a hundred grand from Gantry’s people, the family sure hadn’t seen any of it. And why would the payment be in cash, and what the hell was he thinking, assuming he could structure the deposits to avoid detection by the IRS?
Or maybe he had some other reason for his questions to Charlene. Cash deposits of ten thousand dollars or more required the depositor to fill out IRS forms, but the real reason for the rule wasn’t to thwart tax evasion. It was to prevent money laundering. Financial paper trails were the most efficient method of tracking criminals trying to funnel their dirty money through legitimate sources. Money laundering—the very crime they suspected Cyrus Gantry was engaged in. And now Neil was involved with Gantry. Could Neil be part of the conspiracy?
Peyton couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility. Not now. She needed a lot more information before she would accuse her brother of anything other than reckless management of the family business. She looked at Roscoe and Charlene who were waiting for her to call the shots. First things first. Protect the family legacy. “I’m ready to sign that affidavit.”
*
Lily took a seat in the reception area of Gantry Oil and waited for her father to finish his conference call. She’d arrived early for the appointment, having spent the morning dreading the discussion she was about to have and wanting to get it over with as soon as possible.
“You can go back now,” the receptionist said.
She walked through the frosted glass doors of the office suite and strode through the halls, taking in the massive grandeur of the empire her family had built. Certificates showcasing the company’s accomplishments graced the walls sandwiched between expensive works of art by some of the country’s leading Western artists. When she reached the large corner office, she knocked twice on the door and then pushed it open.
Her father was sitting alone behind his massive desk, and his face broke into a huge smile when she entered. She couldn’t help but smile in return. So many people over the years had told her that they shared the same smile. Nurture over nature, she supposed.
He looked at his watch. “It’s a little early for lunch, but I can always eat. You want to join me at the club?”
She shook her head. “I’m not hungry, Dad. I need to talk to you.” She sat down. She’d had all morning to plan what she would say, but now that she was here, she was at a complete loss as to how to start.
“How’s business?” Lame, but since he was always eager to talk about the company, it would prime the pump.
“Couldn’t be better. And I haven’t forgotten about my promise. Nester is working on the paperwork to secure investors for your project. Should be ready any day now.”
Lily’s stomach clenched as Peyton’s warning about going into business with her father echoed in her head. She couldn’t think about that now. Her own business ventures were the last thing on her mind. She plunged ahead. “Dad, I had an attorney look at the trust waiver that Nester asked me to sign. She says if I don’t sign it, the trust will still hold up. Something about estoppel and other legalese, but the point is, I’m not going to sign it.” Her words skidded to a stop and she took a breath while she gauged his reaction to the first part of what she had to say. If it went well, she planned to tell him she’d hired an investigator.
She scanned his face, but she couldn’t get an accurate read. His eyes narrowed and his cheeks were red, but she didn’t sense anger. After a few seconds of silence, she finally asked, “Are you going to say something?”
He reached in his back pocket for a handkerchief and mopped his brow. She watched the action, and it triggered dozens of memories. The times she’d played roug
h like a tomboy and gone to him to fix her cuts. The times she’d cried with disappointment when childhood bullies mocked her for looking different than the rest of the neighborhood kids. Each time she’d gone to him, he’d pull an expensive silk handkerchief monogrammed with his initials from his pocket, and he’d wipe her tears and clean her wounds. “Say something, please.”
He carefully folded the handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know who this lawyer is that you went to see, but obviously you don’t trust Nester, and if you don’t trust Nester, you don’t trust me. Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”
“I guess a part of me hoped you’d be relieved that my not signing wouldn’t affect the terms of the trust. I love you and Mom, but like I tried to explain before—”
The phone on his desk rang and they both looked at it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I need to get this.”
Lily watched while he answered the call, relieved at the interruption, but after his initial hello, the hanky came back out and he was wiping his brow in earnest. Worried at the increasing redness on his face and the sweat pouring from his brow, she honed in on his half of the conversation.
“What do you mean, they’re here right now? I’m meeting with my daughter. Tell them to go away…That’s ridiculous…Call Nester and tell him to get a team of his best over here right now. I’ll be right there.” He slammed the phone down and stood up.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, sweetie. Tell you what. Let me buy you lunch and we’ll talk more. Take the back way and meet me at the club. I’ll be there in a few minutes. I have a little something I need to take care of first.” While he spoke, he pulled several stacks of paperwork from his desk drawer and hurriedly shoved them into a large envelope and sealed it. He pushed the envelope into her hand. “Take this with you and I’ll get it back at lunch. I need to run it by one of the sites later.” He leaned down, kissed her on the cheek, and was out the door before she could protest.
She rocked back in her chair and contemplated his abrupt departure, already deciding she was going to wait right there and find out what was going on. She glanced at the envelope. She didn’t believe his story, but she didn’t want to violate his trust by peeking inside.
Waiting got old after a couple of minutes, and she got up, ready to wander up front and figure out what was going on when her cell phone rang. The display showed it was Skye. “Hi, I’ve been hoping to hear from you.”
“Sorry,” Skye said. “It’s taken me a while to confirm some facts. Do you have time to meet this afternoon?”
“I’m dying to know what you found out. Can you just tell me now?”
“Uh, well, I have some paperwork I’d like to show you. It’d be better if we met.”
Lily glanced at the door. She didn’t want to be on the phone with Skye when her father returned. “Quit with the cloak and dagger. Out with it.”
“I didn’t find a death certificate for your mother.”
“Well, keep looking. If it’s a matter of money—”
Skye cut her off. “It’s not. It’s a matter of there isn’t one. There’s no death certificate for a Sophia Valencia or anyone named Sophia or Valencia on the date of your birth or even in the days surrounding. In any county in Texas.”
Lily sat back down as she struggled to digest Skye’s pronouncement. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I do either, but I did find some records I think you need to see.”
Lily started to reply, but the sound of heavy footfalls and shouting in the hall outside distracted her. She went to the door and pressed her ear against it, but she couldn’t make out what was going on. “Hang on,” she said into the phone as she cracked the door.
Within seconds, she was surrounded by armed men and women in black jackets. Letters swam before her eyes. ATF, DEA, ICE. One of them barked at her, “Hang up the phone and sit down. Keep this door open and don’t touch anything. Do you understand?”
Lily could hear Skye on the other end of the line. “Lily, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
She nodded at the officers to let them know she understood and murmured into the phone. “I have to go.”
As she sank into the chair and placed her phone on the table in front of her all she could think of was Peyton. Whatever was going on, Peyton was the only person she knew who could get them out of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Peyton saw the camera crews in the lobby of the federal building and wondered which of the other prosecutors in the office was starting a big trial today. Several dozen AUSAs worked under Gellar’s direction, but she’d been so busy with the task force work she’d only met a handful.
She stepped around the crowd and rode the elevator up to the third floor. After entering the back door to the suite of offices, she headed to Bianca’s office but found it empty. She stopped at the task force war room on the way to her own office and found it empty as well. Her desk was exactly as she’d left it, lined with stacks of files she still needed to review. Dale and Bianca had brought her all the files from the last few years that had any connection to the Zetas.
She sank into her desk chair and pulled the closest stack of files toward her. Roscoe had said he would go to the courthouse this morning and request an immediate hearing on the request for an injunction. She wanted to stay close by in case he needed her for any reason, and with the office so quiet, it was the perfect time for her to catch up on these files. A couple of the agents had reviewed them before, but in light of recent events, she wanted to see for herself if there were any clues.
Most of the cases involved street crimes, drugs, guns, and human trafficking, the Vargases usual fare. File after file documented these deeds, but up until the recent incident connecting the trailer full of dead bodies to Gantry Oil, they couldn’t figure out how the Vargases laundered their enormous wealth. The potential to crack that part of the case had Gellar salivating, and Peyton really couldn’t blame him.
Money laundering. Peyton mentally played back the conversation she’d had with Charlene. Were Neil’s questions about avoiding tax consequences born of naiveté or something nefarious? No matter what, if he’d gotten an advance from Cyrus Gantry, she and the rest of the family had a right to know about it. She mentally added this topic to the long list of things she planned to address with him when he showed his face again.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Dale, her arm in a sling, standing in the doorway. She motioned for her to enter. “I didn’t expect to see you for a while. Come in.”
Dale took a seat in one of the chairs across from her desk. “I’m bored sitting at home. Besides, I don’t need two arms to go through files.” She nodded at the stack on Peyton’s desk. “I see you’ve been doing your share of crap duty.”
“That’s right, but I haven’t found anything enlightening yet. I figured I might as well wade through the rest of these while it’s quiet.”
“Where is everyone? I wanted to talk to Bianca about that search warrant affidavit I e-mailed earlier.”
“I haven’t seen anyone yet this morning.” Peyton paused as Dale’s statement sunk in. “Wait, what affidavit?”
“She asked me to go ahead and prepare an affidavit for a search warrant for Gantry’s offices. Apparently, the FBI’s forensic accountant, Samantha Reed, believes that the documents seized from the warehouse are a duplicate set of Gantry Oil records. They’re coded somehow, and the theory is that the code is Cyrus Gantry’s way of tracking the funds he’s funneled for the Vargases. Bianca said they were going to use an affidavit from Agent Reed, along with an affidavit from me about the shooting, to support the warrant. I sent my affidavit to her late last night, but I figured she might want to go through it with me in person before y’all take it to Nivens.”
Peyton felt a chill along her spine. She’d spoken with Bianca yesterday afternoon and she hadn’t mentioned word one about a sear
ch warrant for Gantry Oil’s corporate office. While it was inevitable that they would need Gantry Oil business records to make their case, she wanted to make absolutely sure any search warrant was ironclad before taking action. The shooting at the warehouse had given them clear probable cause they needed for that search, but a search of the head office would be met with strong resistance from the team of lawyers Cyrus kept employed. The fact that Bianca had left her out of the conversation entirely was disturbing.
And where was Bianca anyway? She glanced at the daily docket sheet on her desk and didn’t see any court settings for the morning. She picked up her phone and dialed Ida’s number. “Ida, I’m looking for Bianca. Did she check in with you this morning?”
“She left before I came in, but they left a copy of the warrant here. I made a copy for Mr. Gellar and I’m supposed to wait until they get back with the return before filing it. Did you need to see it?”
Peyton’s insides froze. “Yes. I’m coming up there now.” She motioned to Dale. “Come on.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I hope, but I have a feeling our missing task force is serving a search warrant on Cyrus Gantry’s offices as we speak.”
“Holy shit.”
When they reached the front office, Peyton reached across Ida’s desk and practically grabbed the papers from her hand. She skimmed the pages, chasing to the end. Judge Nivens had signed the search warrant early this morning, and it authorized the seizure of business records and computer servers. Bianca would have had to rush to get a team in place to execute the warrant today, and it would have had to be a big team, with enough agents to guard all the employees to make sure nothing was compromised or destroyed while they conducted the search.
