Landslide

by Robin Mahle

Lucas now appeared self-satisfied at the arrival of his lawyer, as if the worst was already over. The kid didn’t seem to know when a more humble look might serve to assist in matters such as these. His lawyer glared at him until he finally seemed to catch on.

  “I’d like to have Mr. Abbott here give a rundown of his whereabouts the night Mr. Monroe disappeared. Your client was one of three men to be seen last with the man. We have security tapes from the WFC office building that puts Mr. Abbott in the same place as Mr. Monroe only two hours before he disappeared without a trace.”

  “My client was called into a meeting with his bosses. Nothing unusual about that, except that it had been a late night meeting. But that isn’t criminal, if I can recall,” Augustine continued.

  “Are you also aware that your client is the subject of an FBI investigation involving financial fraud?”

  Augustine seemed to know this already. “I did hear something of that nature. But that is a separate matter entirely.”

  “Yes. It is.” Vance was beginning to feel frustrated by the attorney’s deflection tactics. “Lucas, you were at the meeting with Frank Winslow, Chris Goyal, Charlie Monroe, and Evan Winters the night Monroe disappeared?”

  Lucas glanced to his lawyer, who nodded his approval. “Yes.”

  “And that meeting was held very late last Friday night. That seems a little unusual. What’s also unusual is that it would involve a former employee. Do you happen to know the whereabouts of that employee, Chris Goyal?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Can you explain to me how you arrived at the office that night? You didn’t arrive in your own vehicle, did you?”

  Again, he checked with the lawyer. “I got a ride from Frank. He doesn’t live far from me.”

  “And he picked up Goyal as well?”

  “No. Goyal got a lift from his roommate,” Lucas added.

  “I understand you went to Washington State? You normally wear a class ring, don’t you?”

  Abbott looked at his hand, expecting the ring to be on his finger, then he recalled its location. “I do, yeah. But I think I must have lost it that night at the meeting. Must’ve slipped off.”

  “Right. You know, I actually have it here.” Vance pulled out a ziploc baggie with Lucas’ ring inside.

  The kid’s face turned white. He didn’t remember when it had fallen off or where, but he knew it had happened that night.

  His lawyer must have sensed the shift in Lucas’ demeanor. “Detective Vance, do you have any cause to believe that Mr. Abbott knows where Charlie Monroe is? Because all I see is that you found his class ring that he’d misplaced and that he attended a meeting with Monroe before Monroe left of his own accord.”

  Vance hadn’t sent it to forensics yet because he’d only just received it and wanted to scare Abbott enough to get him to talk. There might well have been nothing on that ring. It was too soon to determine. “I do have reason to believe your client knows what happened to Charlie Monroe, that he was working with the man to steal money from clients of WFC and that Frank Winslow authorized the deactivation of the building’s security systems to hide the fact that Monroe had been harmed or worse and was trying to leave the building that night unnoticed.”

  Hugo Augustine, a slender man with round glasses and a forehead with a lot of beachfront property, stood up. “Well, until you can come up with something other than this class ring, which may or may not actually be my client’s, then I suggest you let Mr. Abbott go home.”

  Lucas knew it was his ring. It would only take Detective Vance to turn it over to see the inscription inside. But he was fairly confident it had no evidence that could tie him back to Charlie’s murder. There was no way he was going down for that man’s murder. Winters had gone crazy that night and, if it came down to it, he’d turn on him.

  Vance had thought he’d accomplished the task. He knew that until the ring was analyzed, he really had nothing and couldn’t keep Abbott for much longer. “Mr. Abbott, you’re free to go, but I believe the FBI will be needing some information from you. I wouldn’t go too far.”

  Lucas seemed to comprehend what was at stake and his mask of superiority faded away. “Thank you.” The lawyer remained seated, knowing that Frank Winslow was next.

  On his way out, Lucas crossed paths with Frank. The two exchanged a look that suggested each man was out for himself.

  It was what Frank had expected, but hoped that Abbott hadn’t already thrown him under the bus.

  “Mr. Winslow?” Detective Vance asked. “Please come with me.” He led Frank inside the same small room from where Lucas had just taken leave. “I believe you know Mr. Augustine?”

  “Yes.”

  The cool demeanor on the lawyer’s face put Frank somewhat at ease. It seemed Augustine had a level of confidence that suggested all this might just go away. But, there would still be the FBI to deal with.

  So many things had unraveled in such a short amount of time; Frank felt as though he was unraveling too. Dumping Charlie’s body had taken its toll. After taking the boat out far enough into the sound, he and Abbott struggled to lift him and toss him over the stern. Goyal couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t even get on the boat, at which time Abbott told him to leave and take care of Charlie’s car. Frank didn’t know where he’d taken it. Winters had set up some secure place that only he and Goyal knew about. Just another part of Winters’ plan that seemed to Frank to be desperate and fortuitous.

  Frank breathed deeply and took a seat next to Augustine.

  Vance didn’t have anything on Winslow except authorizing the system to be taken off line. It wasn’t enough to keep him either. But he’d hoped it would buy Sanchez and Huffman enough time to get something concrete on either or both of these guys, or, even better, get something on Winters. Then the entire house of cards would collapse, burying the other men in the process.

  “Mr. Winslow, can you tell me why you entered into the control room and authorized the shutdown of the security system last Friday night?”

  He looked at Augustine, who discreetly shook his head. The man then proceeded to preempt any attempt of his client to answer the question.

  “All of the corporate officers have access to the control room, Detective Vance. It’s not unusual to take the system down occasionally for maintenance, which I believe was the reason it was disabled on Friday night.” Augustine wouldn’t let Winslow speak further on the subject.

  “It does seem unusual that three of the people in that meeting decided to leave the building through the service entrance into the parking garage while the system was offline. I can’t imagine there would be a reason to avoid the night guard on watch to at least let him know they were leaving.”

  “I can’t tell you the reasons why they took the back exit, except maybe that it was just easier. It was late and everyone was tired, I’m sure. Stopping to talk to the security guard in the lobby probably wasn’t on their list of priorities.” Augustine glanced at Frank. His look suggested that he remain quiet.

  “You’ve known Charlie Monroe a long time, haven’t you, Frank? I’m sure it must seem out of character for him to leave his wife without so much as a text message.”

  “The guy was pissed about losing his accounts to Claire McKenna. Who knows what he was thinking.” Frank flashed back to the moment when Charlie’s body hit the water. They’d covered him in a blanket, but on impact, the blanket floated off of his face and Frank saw Charlie’s eyes. That look of surprise and general shock of betrayal. He suddenly felt a wave of guilt for Margaret, thinking of his own wife. He wasn’t a murderer and, for a moment, he thought about handing Winters over, telling Vance what really happened. But he had to assume Winters had already taken precautions. Frank couldn’t risk Rebecca’s life. She knew nothing of the corruption in which he'd gotten himself involved. It would break her heart. It would break his children’s hearts too.

  “Is there anything else you’d like to ask my client? I’m sure he’d rather go home. It’s getting very late.” The
lawyer was already shoving files back into his briefcase.

  “Well, as I told Mr. Abbott, I would suggest that your client not leave town until the FBI has completed their investigation. In the meantime, if there’s any additional information you’d like to give, Mr. Winslow, I’m available.”

  Vance had spotted that momentary hint of regret on Frank’s face and wanted to capitalize on his guilt before it disappeared entirely.

  “I’m sure if he thinks of anything else, we’ll be in touch.” Augustine pushed his chair back, lifting his slight frame from the seat. He tossed a nod to Frank, who followed closely behind.

  Vance eyed Frank as they walked towards the door. He was sure the man was teetering on the edge of dropping Winters’ name.

  ***

  WFC had been effectively shut down until further notice. All the equipment and files that had been seized now sat in an FBI warehouse where technicians were combing through to find any and all documentation to solidify their case against Evan Winters and the others.

  Agent Sanchez had been awake all night and it was approaching noon on Wednesday. He’d been fielding calls for most of the day from other corporate officers who were concerned about their liabilities. But something wasn’t sitting right with Sanchez and it involved Beth Graves. Now that he had the files he needed, it was only a matter of time for him to get the banking information from the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN).

  He now had access to view the Suspicious Activity Reports (SARs) from the banking institutions listed on the corporate documentation. It appeared that Beth Graves had, in fact, received several payouts from at least five different accounts. A similar situation to Lucas Abbott, which had been easy to trace with the files in hand. Vance might not have anything solid on Abbott, but it was looking more and more like Sanchez would. But he had been convinced Beth was being set up to take the fall. He was now having doubts.

  “I requested additional information from FinCEN regarding the SARs from the various banks that held her accounts.” Sanchez motioned for Huffman to move in towards the laptop. “Take a look at this. Look who’s a signatory on this account?”

  “What the hell?” Huffman squinted his eyes, ensuring what he was reading on the screen was accurate.

  “Yeah. You tell me how Claire McKenna ended up authorizing the transfer of money from Winters Financial to KLZ Holdings, whose managing partner is Beth Graves?”

  Huffman folded his arms and shook his head. “No, this isn’t right. It can’t be. What have we found so far in their files?”

  “Not much yet. The servers were backed up within twenty-four hours of our seizure and so the information we have is current. Problem is, it’s a boatload of information.”

  “Sir?” One of the analysts approached Sanchez and handed him a printout. “I think this might be of interest to you.”

  Sanchez held up the paper. “What am I looking at here?” He began examining the document.

  “This is a report of all the accounts in their system. See these here?” The tech pointed to the column marked “inactive.” “These are their dead accounts, except that you’ll see hundreds of thousands of dollars have been posted to these accounts over the last twenty-four months or so. The money never hangs around for long.”

  “Okay.” Sanchez waited for further clarification.

  “These accounts and the money posted to them do not show up anywhere in the company’s revenues, balance sheets, any of it. And what’s interesting is that most of their monthly accounting reports were authorized by Claire McKenna.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Sanchez was defiantly shaking his head. “No way Claire’s involved in this.”

  “It makes sense,” Huffman replied.

  “What?” Sanchez turned towards him with a wholly shocked look. “What the hell are you saying, Derek? After everything that has happened, you think she could be in on this? She’s the one who came to us. What about the bugs we found in her home and office?”

  “I’m just saying, we need to consider the possibility. She was working both sides, wasn’t she? Feeding us bits and pieces here and there, but never really giving us anything useful?”

  “How do you explain what happened at the marina? The ring? She gave us Abbott,” Sanchez said.

  “She gave us Abbott, but why do you think that was? To get us looking in another direction?” Huffman looked more closely at the printout. “I think Winters may have wondered whose side she was on. That’s what made him take her out on the boat for a little talk.”

  Sanchez was incensed by this point. “You’re insane! Absolutely no damn way she was involved in this.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is that we need to be objective here. That’s our job. What we’ve got here, right here in front of us, is proof that Claire authorized deposits and withdrawals on these inactive accounts. I’m not saying we drive over to her house right now and arrest her. I’m just saying we need to continue looking at the evidence and be one hundred percent confident before we go to the grand jury. That’s all,” Huffman continued.

  Sanchez began to calm down, realizing several techs were now looking at him. “Well, it sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind. You’re wrong about Claire.”

  “I hope I am. But let’s keep looking before we hang Lucas Abbott and Evan Winters without ensuring we’ve got all the parties involved,” Huffman replied.

  “I’ll keep working on this.” The analyst retrieved the printout and quietly walked back to his table.

  ***

  Evan Winters had been in a holding cell for the remainder of the night. Sanchez was able to get a judge to declare him a flight risk and so his passport had also been revoked, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d be released. There was nothing solid against him yet and Sanchez and Vance were working hard to keep him locked up as long as the law would allow without bringing charges against him.

  It was midday and his lawyer, Augustine, had been working to bust through the red tape the FBI and Seattle PD had wrapped tightly around his client.

  “They’ve frozen all my accounts, Hugo. What the hell am I supposed to do now? When am I getting out of here? I pay you a great deal of money and yet I’m still stuck in this cell.”

  Hugo brushed back his comb-over and breathed deeply. “What about Higgins? Can we count on him?” He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and began blotting his brow. It seemed Hugo was nervous simply for the fact that Winters was damn angry to still be locked up.

  “You’d better talk to him. If I know him like I think I do, he’s going to do what he can to distance himself and Envirotech from us,” Winters said.

  “We really need to consider a plea deal, Evan, should it come to that. You’re running out of options and there’s a good possibility we can get you a reduced sentence. You’re probably only looking at eighteen to twenty-four months if you cooperate.”

  “I told you I’ve got it under control. I’ve taken precautions and it won’t be long before they realize they’ve got nothing on me.”

  “Damn it, you need to keep me in the loop on this thing.” Hugo adjusted his oversized eyewear.

  Evan appeared mildly repulsed by the man’s lack of style. He was a hell of a good lawyer, though, and he supposed that was all that really mattered. “Don’t worry about it. When the time’s right, you’ll know. In the meantime, please see to it that Lucas Abbott doesn’t make things worse for the rest of us either.”

  “Understood.”

  ***

  Lucas stopped at a local bar not far from his apartment and tossed back a few cold ones to soothe his ragged nerves. It was only mid-day, but that hardly mattered now. He didn’t know how long he had before the evidence came in, or worse, before Charlie’s body turned up. In the meantime, he’d seriously considered making a run for it.

  Goyal sat on the steps leading up to Lucas’ apartment, waiting for his arrival. “About time. What the hell took you so long?” Chris asked.

 
“That asshole Winters is gonna leave me high and fucking dry, I just know it.” Lucas’ stubble had grown thick and he was still wearing his clothes from last night. His white shirt hung wrinkled and his tie was loosened. “That guy better have a damn plan because I’ll tell you what; I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in prison while that son of a bitch gets off scot-free. He was the one who lost control once Claire came into the picture. All he cared about was fucking her. Instead, he’s fucked us all.”

  “Just calm down.” Chris moved away, allowing Lucas up the stairs. “Let’s just get inside so you can get cleaned up. You look like hell.”

  ***

  “I’ve got it,” Colin said as a call came in on the land line. “Hello?” He glanced over to Claire, who was still wrapped in her robe and curled up on the couch.

  They’d kept the kids home from school today, unsure of what would happen next and wanting to keep them close.

  “Yeah. Just a minute.” Colin approached Claire. “It’s Agent Sanchez.”

  “Hello?”

  “Claire, I need to see you as soon as possible.”

  “Why? What’s happened?” The last thing she wanted right now was to see anyone, let alone Sanchez. She knew this FBI case wasn’t over, not until they could charge Winters, but she prayed that her part was.

  “I think you’re being set up.”

  CHAPTER 21

  AGENT SANCHEZ STOOD at the steps of the McKenna home. The afternoon sun bounced off the stained glass in the front door. Instructions were left with Huffman to continue supervising the review of the WFC files. He didn’t want to concede to his partner’s point of view, but maybe he did need to maintain his objectivity. Still, Sanchez felt almost betrayed by Huffman’s remarks.

  Having worked together in the Financial Crimes Unit for almost five years, Sanchez thought he knew the guy pretty well. They’d both been at Quantico at the same time, although their backgrounds varied greatly. Gordon Sanchez had been a cop for six years prior to becoming a federal agent and Derek Huffman went straight to Quantico from college. Huffman’s degree in forensic accounting led him to work in the division, but Sanchez specialized more in embezzlement and identity theft, having been a white collar crimes detective in San Francisco. He found that many of his cases overlapped with federal investigations, often working in conjunction with one other. A career with the FBI just made sense.