“I’m really not sure at this point,” Laura replied. “He could be embezzling from clients, taking work in cash…hell, it could even be drugs or human trafficking.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “If that bastard was into trafficking with my daughter in his house—”
“I don’t know if it’s trafficking,” Laura said over me, “and even if it is, it didn’t directly affect Britt. I was just stating the possibility.”
“Yeah.” Despite what she said, if that possibility turned out to be true they’d have to pry my hands from around Patrick’s cold, lifeless neck. “What’s next?”
“Next is you wait, and let me do my research. I’ll be in touch.”
With that Laura ended the call. I set down the receiver, my mind spinning with what she’d told me. It seemed that Patrick was an even worse person than we’d imagined, and that he was about to get his.
Good.
***
When Laura finished her digging, which took another week or so, she sent me the following email:
Dear Sean,
Thank you so much for your and Cindy’s patience while I indulged my curiosity about Mr. Sullivan’s business dealings. I believe I’ve found what I was looking for, and I’ve taken the liberty of scheduling a meeting with Mr. Sullivan. It will take place this Friday at nine, and Beth’s firm has graciously allowed us the use of one of their conference rooms. I hope you and Cindy will be able to join us, however if you can’t make it we will hold the meeting without you. Please let me know your plans.
Sincerely,
Laura
“I guess she doesn’t think I’m a moral abomination any longer,” Cin said, after she’d read the email too. “I wonder what she found.”
“When I talked with her, she kept going back to Pat’s income,” I said. “Did you ever get the impression he wasn’t honest about how he earned his money?”
“Honestly, I stayed as far away from his business dealings as possible,” Cin replied. “Even when I worked for the firm, I only did things like answer the phone and go to the post office.”
“Huh. Seems like he didn’t want you involved, either.”
Cin glanced at the email, then she wrapped her arms around her stomach and the bump that was just beginning to show. “No, he didn’t.”
***
Later that week Cin and I made our third trip to New York in as many months, and this drive down was filled with just as much curiosity and speculation as the first two. Laura hadn’t elaborated any further about what she’d learned about Patrick, not to me and Cin, nor to Britt and Sam. That made me think that whatever she’d dug up had to be good.
When we arrived at the firm on Friday morning, Beth met us right inside the lobby’s main entrance.
“Sullivan’s been here since eight,” Beth said. “He’s been insisting that we start without you and the kids present, so I’ve kept him waiting in my office.”
“Is Laura here?” I asked.
“She, along with Tom and the kids, are in the conference room. I thought it best to keep Sullivan isolated until we could all be in a room together.” Beth eyed me for a moment. “Do you know what Laura’s presenting him with?”
“No idea,” I replied. “I will say that for her to fly out from Iowa, it must be good.”
Beth smiled. “Oh, it is.”
“Are you going to give us a hint?” Cin asked.
“Nope.”
We followed Beth into a conference room that did indeed have Britt, Sam, and Sam’s parents seated around one of those massive highly polished wood tables; this one was so shiny I could see my reflection. Laura was seated at the head of the table, with Tom right beside her. After we’d all said our hellos, Beth hit a button on the conference room’s phone and asked for Pat to be brought in. A few moments later, the wolf himself joined us.
Pat took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and glared at Beth. “I trust you’ll answer my questions now.”
“Actually,” Beth said, “Captain MacKellar has requested that she take point for this meeting. Since I had no objections, I agreed.”
Pat looked at Laura. “I’m ready to begin.”
“Mr. Sullivan,” Laura began, “this meeting could take us a great deal of time, or we could reach an accord rather quickly. It’s all up to you.”
“How so?” Patrick asked.
“If you drop the suit against Sam and Britt, and sign the divorce papers releasing Cindy from marriage, everything I have in this folder will stay inside it,” Laura replied.
“And if I don’t?” Patrick pressed. “What if I drop the defamation suit, but refuse to sign the divorce papers?” Patrick gave Cin a long look. “I would not give up on our marriage if you had a medical condition.”
“Your medical status has nothing to do with this,” Cin snapped. “The lies, the manipulation, the fact that you used my daughter against me; the fact that you’re defending the people that hurt her. That is why I cannot be married to you.”
I laced my fingers with Cin’s, and set our hands on the table in full view of Patrick. He stared at us for a moment, then he looked toward Laura. “Well? What if I refuse the divorce?”
Laura tapped the folder. “All or nothing, Sullivan. Those are the terms.”
“You can’t possibly have anything that damning,” Patrick said. “What evidence do you have against me?”
“By your words I assume we have not reached an accord?”
“We have not.”
“Very well.” Laura opened the folder, and set a few papers out in a row. “Since you relocated to New York, you have consistently purchased your cars at the same dealership, correct? Hayden Automotive?”
“Yes.”
“And you pay for them in cash?”
“Yes.”
“I have to say, that’s what first piqued my curiosity,” Laura continued. “Most people don’t have the means to purchase a high end vehicle in cash, yet you do just that. Several times per year.”
“I trade in the prior vehicle for a newer model,” Patrick began, but Cin shook her head.
“No, you don’t,” Cin said. “You just rotate the older models down to the staff. You have never traded in a car, not since I’ve known you.”
“Remember the three Maseratis?” Britt asked. “He didn’t know what color would look best in the garage, so he brought home one in every color. I know that those were cash sales; I remember the envelopes.”
While Patrick gave Britt a cold stare, Laura continued. “That is an awful lot of money for a corporate attorney to have lying around. You see, I am an attorney, and I’m quite familiar with how much annual revenue a firm such as yours would bring in.”
“Perhaps in Iowa, but things are a bit different here in the city,” Patrick said.
“I’m aware of that. I’m also aware of exactly how much money your firm makes, because I have reviewed your firm’s tax returns for the preceding three fiscal years. Based on those documents, your salary is approximately half a million dollars per year.”
“How dare you,” Patrick seethed. “My business is none of your concern.”
“First of all, those records were obtained legally via IRS channels,” Laura said. “Second, you made this my business when you dragged my son into your games.”
A little blue vein throbbed on Patrick’s forehead. I wondered if he would stroke out. “Very well, you verified my annual income. What does that prove?”
“Nothing, in and of itself. Then I recalled a few other stories Britt told me about the surveillance on your house, the bodyguards, and that room in the basement. What’s in that room, Patrick?”
Patrick glared at Britt and opened his mouth, but I held up my hand. “If you say one word to my daughter, I will strangle you where you sit,” I said. “Consider this your sole warning.”
Patrick shut his mouth and regarded me for a moment, then he gestured for Laura to continue.
“The amount of money you must be spending on bodygua
rds alone far outstrips your income,” Laura continued. “Still, it was the cars that got to me. Always the same dealership, always cash…so I did some digging. And I found out that you’re laundering money.”
Patrick laughed. “By buying cars for myself, and my wife and stepchild?”
“No, by sending enough business to Hayden Automotive so it appeared to be a viable dealership operating within the constraints of the law.” Laura selected a document and slid it toward Patrick. “But it’s not, is it?”
Patrick glanced at the document, and left it lying on the table. Since he was keeping quiet, Laura continued.
“The dealership’s owner, Saul Hayden, has multiple convictions under his belt. These range from simple embezzlement to grand theft. Someone should make a cable series about this man.”
“And what does Mr. Hayden’s arrest record have to do with me?” Patrick asked.
“You’re his accomplice,” Laura stated. “The vast majority of the vehicles acquired by Hayden Automotive are stolen. Since the business needs to show revenue to keep nosy people like me from delving into its records, you and whoever you could convince to do the same purchased your vehicles at Hayden. I assume that the ones you’ve been driving around in had onboard tracking systems that were easily reprogrammable. The rest of the stolen merchandise was shipped overseas.”
Patrick remained silent, but a trickle of sweat rolled down his temple.
“In the course of my research, I unearthed enough information to state beyond a reasonable doubt that Saul Hayden is involved in a multi-state auto theft ring. Further, those vehicles that could not be sold at his dealership were shipped to his counterpart in Yemen from a port in New Jersey.” Laura glanced at Beth, who nodded. “Since you assisted in the transportation of stolen goods across state lines, this means that you are in violation of the Interstate Commerce Act, and therefore the United States Constitution. You, Mr. Sullivan, have committed federal crimes.”
“Perhaps Mr. Hayden committed these crimes, but you can prove no collusion on my part,” Patrick said.
“Perhaps I don’t have to,” Laura said. “Perhaps I have already alerted the authorities and supplied them with copies of these same documents with your name carefully redacted. Do you really think Hayden won’t turn over on you for the chance of a reduced sentence?”
Patrick blanched, then he got up and left the room. Laura waited for a moment, but when it became obvious that he wasn’t coming back, she gathered up her documents and replaced them in the folder.
“Momma, that was awesome,” Sam said.
“Yeah, it was,” Britt said. “Do you think he’ll drop the suit, and sign Mom’s papers?”
“Honestly, I have no idea,” Laura replied. “However, he left before I got to the best part.”
“You mean there’s more?” I asked.
“Much more,” Laura replied, then she glanced at Beth. “Since you learned that piece, would you like to do the honors?”
“With pleasure,” Beth replied. “The reason it took me so long to obtain the tax records was because I requested his business and personal returns, but there aren’t any personal returns to be had. Sullivan hasn’t filed a personal tax return in more than a decade.”
“How is that possible?” Cin asked. “Of all people, Patrick should know better than to overlook something so foolish.”
“Clearly, he feels that he is above the law in many aspects,” Beth said. “We’ll see how he feels after the IRS audits him.”
“You turned him in?” I asked.
“Oh yes, but only for the possible tax evasion,” Beth replied. “Laura and I decided to let Sullivan’s business associates take care of the rest.”
“What does this mean for us?” Britt asked.
“A few things,” Beth replied. “With Sullivan so discredited, a judge can remove him from the Williams suit. Mind you, they could always sue you again, but it’s obvious that only an attorney with a personal vendetta against you or Sam would represent them in such a case. As for the divorce, if he goes to jail a judge can dissolve his marriage with a signature.”
“We could probably lean on him now, and get that signature even quicker,” Laura said.
“Ten years of hell, and it’s almost over,” Cin said. “Beth, Laura, I cannot thank you enough.”
“What are old friends for?” Beth asked.
Laura smiled tightly. “I joined the military, and went to law school, to uphold what’s right. Sullivan is the very antithesis of everything I believe in. Believe me when I say that it was my pleasure to do this.”
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Cindy
Present Day
“Hey, Cinnamon,” Sean yelled up the stairs from the shop.
“Yeah?” I yelled back, Edith to his Archie.
“Melody’s here to see you.”
I wonder why. I’d had no idea that she was going to visit, and I couldn’t imagine why Melody would drive all the way up from the city instead of just calling me. The last time I’d spoken to her was when Sean and I had been in New York a few weeks ago, and Laura had handed Patrick his ass. That had been a pretty good day.
I got myself up and went down to the store. Sean said it was cute when I waddled. I told him that if he said the word waddle ever again I would make certain that this would be the last child he’d be capable of fathering. He’d laughed, but the terror in his eyes had been cute.
I found Melody standing before the revolving rack that displayed the week’s new titles, staring at the comic books as one would an anatomical specimen. They weren’t even the bizarre comics Sean kept in the back. “Hello, Melody,” I said. “What brings you up here?”
“I have some news—good news, for once—and I wanted to deliver it in person.” She reached into her bag, and withdrew a plain white envelope. “Here are your divorce papers. You’re a single woman again.”
“Patrick signed them?” I reached for the envelope, but my hands were shaking so badly I could barely grasp it. “He really signed them?”
“He did,” Melody replied. “After everything came out about his shady business dealings, Beth threatened to go public about his medical condition and hit him with a loss of consortium and emotional abuse suit. He decided that discretion is the better part of valor, and signed.”
“Wow,” I said. “He told you all that?”
Melody laughed. “Actually, he told me almost nothing. What he did say was that he didn’t trust a messenger service to deliver you the papers without reading them. Since he’s still furious with Britt and refuses to speak with her, he asked me to bring you the papers.” She leaned closer, and added, “I may have rifled through them in the car.”
I smiled at Melody, then I ran toward the office and yelled, “Sean! I’m divorced.”
He erupted from the back office as if launched from a cannon. “Really?”
“Really.” Sean swept me into his arms. “I’m single.”
He kissed me so hard his customers and employees whistled and cheered. “Not for long, baby.”
***
Sean and I spent the next twenty minutes or so in his office, alternately laughing and kissing as we examined the divorce papers. I must have read through them ten times, but every reading was the same: I was free of Patrick, now and forever.
“I never really thought this would happen,” I said as I shuffled through the papers for the eleventh time. “I mean, I wanted it, but I figured Patrick would die before he capitulated.”
“I figured I’d have to put out a hit on him.” Sean wrapped an arm around my waist, and kissed my hair. “And I was okay with that plan.”
“That’s terrible,” I said. “A good idea, but terrible.” I glanced at the clock, and realized how long we’d been holed up in the back. “Oh, I should probably rescue Melody. I heard Kyle telling her she looked like Wonder Woman.”
“Kyle is a ladies’ man,” Sean said as we returned to the storefront. And he was right, because there
were Kyle and Melody, standing together in front of the periodicals. He was brandishing a graphic novel like a shield, and flailing his arms like a Muppet on speed.
“This is a classic,” Kyle was saying as we approached. “It’s a great introduction to many of the core characters who are still active today. In this franchise, at least.”
Melody—who had been eyeing the graphic novel as if it might reach out and grab her—smiled when she saw Sean and I. “Everything in order?” she asked.
“It’s perfect,” I replied. While Sean redirected Kyle toward someplace more useful, I asked, “Has anything similar happened between you and Darryl?”
Melody scrunched up her face. “Darryl still wants to be married to me, for some godawful reason,” she replied. “Why he wants me so badly, I can’t imagine. I’ve hardly seen him since September, and when we do see each other it’s only with an attorney present. But I did ask Patrick to talk to him, so we’ll see. Maybe I’ll get a miracle.”
“They do happen,” I said. “If I can have one, anyone can.”
Chapter Forty
Cindy
Present Day
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I said.
“You had better not,” Britt warned. “And isn’t morning sickness only supposed to last for the first few weeks?”
“This isn’t morning sickness,” I replied. “This is holy crap, I’m five months pregnant and about to get married sickness.”
“At least you’re not seven months pregnant,” Astrid said, as she fanned her neck. “Why is it so hot up here? We’re hundreds of miles north from the city, but it has got to be one hundred degrees hotter.”
“It is not,” Britt said; she’d taken on the role of mother hen, which was fantastic. In my sorry state I wasn’t capable of mothering a rag doll. “It’s actually three degrees cooler than it is in Manhattan right now. Count your blessings.”
Changing Fate (Changing Teams Series Book 3) Page 19
