Chapter 38
Sandra had just finished with a client when Rupert appeared in her doorway. His usually confident demeanor was replaced by a look that seemed almost sheepish.
"Got a minute?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the reception area.
"Of course. Come in." Sandra gestured to the chair across from her desk, noting how Rupert closed the door behind him, indicating that what he wanted to discuss needed privacy. "What's up?"
Rupert settled into the chair but didn't seem to know where to look. "I got an interesting call yesterday. From Marcus Webb."
Sandra frowned, not recognizing the name. “Okay…should I know him?”
"He’s the attorney I played golf with. He came with Harrison Blackwood."
She nodded now, remembering.
“He represents Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes. Um… he was asking about you." Rupert's words came out in a rush. "Said he'd heard good things and wanted to check your background. Mentioned his firm is always looking for new blood, especially attorneys with your kind of reputation."
A chill ran down Sandra's spine. "My reputation for what?"
"Contract law, apparently. Said you had a solid track record with construction disputes." Rupert shifted uncomfortably. "The whole conversation felt... I don't know. Off, somehow."
Sandra set down her pen, her mind racing. "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing specific. Just that you were a good attorney, dedicated to your clients.
Basic professional courtesy stuff." Rupert leaned forward.
"But Sandra, I've only just met him. We’ve played golf once.
He's never contacted me about anything, so to suddenly be interested in you specifically seemed odd. "
"What exactly did he say?"
"That's just it—he was vague. Asked about your experience, your client base, whether you seemed happy at Legal Aid." Rupert's expression grew more concerned. "Then he offered to set up a meeting. Said his firm could probably double your salary."
Sandra felt her stomach tighten. "I'm not interested in changing jobs. What about you? Did he make you an offer too?"
"No.” Rupert snorted and shook his head, then studied her face. "Why was he asking about you specifically? How would he even know your name? Your name didn’t come up at the golf game."
"I don't know." Sandra kept her voice carefully neutral. "Maybe someone mentioned me because I met Harry Blackwood recently. He works the Eastern Shore operations."
"When did you meet Harry?"
Sandra hesitated. She trusted Rupert but suddenly felt suspicious about everything. “I had some questions about their billing procedures for a client. Nothing major."
Rupert's eyebrows rose. "Must have been some conversation if it got back to the senior partners."
"Apparently." Sandra forced a smile. "You know how it is in small communities. Word travels fast."
But even as she said it, Sandra felt a creeping unease settle in her chest. Harry had been nervous, almost panicked during their meeting. Why would he tell his father's attorney about her unless he was worried about something?
"There's something else," Rupert said, his voice dropping lower. "Marcus asked if you'd been working on anything involving his clients.”
Sandra's blood ran cold. "He asked that directly?"
"Not directly, no. But he kept steering the conversation toward your current caseload, asking if you were handling any construction disputes that might involve his firm." Rupert leaned back in his chair. "Sandra, I've been doing this long enough to recognize a fishing expedition when I hear one."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I don't discuss other attorneys' cases. But he was persistent enough that I started getting uncomfortable." Rupert met her eyes. "Is there something I should know about? Because this whole thing felt less like recruitment and more like intelligence gathering."
"You know I've been helping some contractors review their agreements. Standard stuff, making sure they understand the terms." She kept her tone professional and matter-of-fact. "Maybe Blackwood's firm is just being proactive about potential disputes."
Rupert didn't look convinced. "Maybe. But Sandra, be careful. Marcus Webb isn't just any attorney—he's connected. Big firm, influential clients, plays golf with judges. If he's asking questions about you, there's a reason."
After Rupert left, Sandra sat staring at her desk, the contract amendments forgotten. The timing of Webb's call couldn't be coincidental. She'd met with Harry Blackwood two days ago, and now his firm's attorney was fishing for information about her.
Her phone buzzed with a text from Lia: Can you meet this afternoon? Found something interesting in those contracts.
Yes. 3 PM at your office?
Perfect. You're going to want to see this.
Sandra spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on other cases, but her mind kept drifting to Rupert's conversation with Marcus Webb.
The fact that Blackwood's attorney was asking specific questions about her caseload suggested Harry had reported their meeting up the chain.
And if they were concerned enough to start background checks, she was definitely onto something significant.
At three o'clock, Sandra found herself in Lia's office, watching her friend spread computer printouts across her desk like tarot cards.
"Okay, remember how you said the markup percentages seemed high?" Lia's eyes were bright with the excitement of someone who'd solved a complex puzzle. "I ran some comparative analyses, and Sandra, this isn't just overcharging."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the pattern is too perfect, too systematic." Lia pointed to a series of highlighted numbers. "Look at these invoices. The markups aren't random. They're calculated to hit specific dollar amounts."
Sandra leaned closer, studying the figures. "I'm not following."
"Money Laundering 101," Lia explained. "You take dirty money and run it through legitimate businesses to make it clean.
But you need a way to justify the extra cash flow.
" She tapped another sheet. "These inflated invoices?
They're not just padding profits. They're providing paper trails for money that came from somewhere else. "
Sandra felt the pieces clicking into place. "So the extra money on Manuel's electrical work..."
"Probably represents dirty money that needed to be laundered through a legitimate construction project. The homeowner pays the inflated amount, Blackwood pays the contractor the real amount, and the difference gets washed clean through their books."
"How much money are we talking about?"
Lia pulled out a calculator and started running numbers. "Based on just the contracts you showed me? Conservatively? They're laundering between fifty and seventy-five thousand dollars per house."
Sandra's mouth went dry. "And they build how many houses a year?"
"According to their website, about forty custom homes annually between both locations." Lia's expression was grim. "Sandra, if this pattern holds across all their projects, we're looking at two to three million dollars in laundered money per year."
The magnitude of the operation hit Sandra like a physical blow. This wasn't small-time fraud—this was organized crime using construction projects as a front for massive money laundering.
"There's more," Lia continued. "I did some research on their charitable contributions.
The timing of their donations correlates almost perfectly with their contract completions.
They finish a house, launder money through inflated billing, then make large charitable donations that further legitimize the cash flow while building community goodwill. "
Sandra thought about Harrison Blackwood's carefully cultivated reputation, his presence at every community event, his generous donations to youth sports and local churches. It was all part of an elaborate cover story.
"Lia, I need you to document everything. Every calculation, every pattern you've found." Sandra's voice remained steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. "This is going to the authorities."
"Already on it. But Sandra, if they're laundering this much money, these aren't just local contractors cutting corners. This is organized crime territory." Lia's expression was serious now, the excitement replaced by concern. "You need to be very careful who you trust with this information."
Sandra nodded, thinking about Marcus Webb's fishing expedition with Rupert. They already knew she was asking questions. The question was, how far would they go to protect a multi-million-dollar operation?
As she drove back to her office, Sandra's phone rang. Terry's name on the display made her smile despite everything. "Hey," she answered.
"Hey, yourself. How's your day going?"
Sandra glanced in her rearview mirror, noting a dark sedan that seemed to be maintaining the same distance behind her. It was probably nothing, but after Lia's warnings about organized crime, she was seeing threats everywhere.
"Interesting," she said carefully. "I'll tell you about it tonight."
"Everything okay? You sound tense."
"Just work stuff. Nothing I can't handle."
But as Sandra hung up and continued driving toward her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was in deeper water than she'd realized. And somewhere behind her, that dark sedan continued to follow at exactly the same distance until she turned into the parking lot.