Chapter 14 - The Cartel Connection
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
Michael.
My mind flashed back to the day of the accident. Michael had been acting strange. He told me he needed a ride to the airport, and Anna had offered to take him so I could stay home with Lily. He had survived the crash with only a broken arm and a concussion. He had wept at her funeral. He had moved into my home to 'help me grieve'.
He hadn't just laundered the money. He had murdered her with his bare hands.
"Why did Evelyn pay you to cover it up?" Collins demanded, keeping the gun steady.
"Because Michael botched it," Vance sneered. "He was supposed to make it look like she fell asleep at the wheel. But he panicked, unbuckled her seatbelt before the crash, and jerked the wheel into the divider. The steering column was bent inward. If an insurance adjuster looked closely, they'd know a passenger pulled it. Evelyn paid me to tow the wreck, strip the steering column, and replace it with a clean one before the cops impounded it."
"Where is the original column?" I demanded. "The proof."
"In a shipping crate out back," Vance grunted. "I kept it as insurance. In case the old witch ever tried to tie off loose ends."
Collins pulled out her handcuffs and secured Vance to a heavy steel pipe on the wall. She immediately called for backup and a forensic team.
"We have it," Collins said, turning to me, her eyes wide with adrenaline. "We have the physical evidence. The tampered car part. With this, Michael's death looks exactly like what it is—Evelyn tying up a loose end. We can nail her to the wall for conspiracy to commit murder."
My phone buzzed.
I pulled it out. The caller ID was a string of random numbers. A restricted call.
I answered it.
"Hello, Daniel."
It was Evelyn. Her voice lacked its usual arrogant polish. It sounded strained, desperate, and terrifyingly cold.
"You get one phone call from federal lockup, Evelyn," I said, my voice steady. "And you waste it on me?"
"You have no idea what you've done," she whispered.
"I know everything," I shot back. "I just found Marcus Vance. I know Michael ran her off the road. I know you paid to cover it up. The FBI is collecting the tampered steering column right now. It's over. You're going to die in a concrete box."
Silence stretched over the line. Then, Evelyn laughed. It wasn't a mocking laugh; it was the laugh of a woman who was standing on the edge of a cliff.
"You fool," she hissed. "Do you think I cared about three million dollars in a trust fund? Do you think I killed my own flesh and blood just to line my pockets? You opened a door you can't close, Daniel. The offshore accounts... the Caymans... that wasn't my money."
A chill ran down my spine. "What do you mean?"
"I was washing it for them. The Sinaloa syndicate. They used my charity as a pipeline into the American political system. When Anna found the discrepancies, they told me to handle it, or they would kill us all. I made Michael do it to protect the family!"
"You're lying to save your own skin."
"Listen to me!" she screamed, her composure shattering completely. "By turning that flash drive over to the FBI, you froze their accounts! You seized a hundred million dollars of cartel money! They just had Michael killed in his cell to send me a message. I am a dead woman, Daniel. But you? You're the one who stole their money."
My blood ran ice cold.
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"They aren't coming for me anymore," Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling with genuine terror. "They're coming for the man who froze the accounts. They are coming for you. And they are coming for Lily."
The line went dead.
