Chapter 49
Terry's heart rate had slowed to something approaching normal, but it was replaced with cold rage flowing through his veins like ice water as they pulled up to the beach house where everything had started weeks ago.
The massive waterfront property looked different in daylight, less glamorous and more tarnished.
Several service vehicles were parked in the circular driveway, their corporate logos bright against white panel sides: carpet cleaning, window washing, power washing, and maid service.
Someone was working overtime to erase all evidence of the party that had blown Harry Blackwood's operation wide open.
The irony wasn't lost on Terry. They were cleaning up one mess while creating a much bigger one for themselves.
The front door stood open, and Terry could hear voices from inside as they approached—casual conversation mixed with the sounds of industrial cleaning equipment, as though this were just another day of property maintenance.
"Sheriff's department! Eastern Shore Drug Task Force!" Terry called out, his voice carrying the authority of twenty years in law enforcement. "We're coming in!"
They found Harrison and Harry Blackwood standing in the main living room, both men surveying the damage and coordinating with the cleaning crews as though they had no worries beyond restoring their rental property to pristine condition.
Father and son looked up in surprise as the three officers entered, their faces shifting from mild annoyance to wide-eyed alarm in the space of a heartbeat.
Terry felt a surge of satisfaction watching their composed masks slip.
"Harrison Blackwood, Harry Blackwood, you're both under arrest," Terry announced, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins like electricity. Jeremy and Pete moved smoothly into position beside him, their handcuffs already out and ready.
"What the hell is this?" Harrison demanded, his polished composure cracking like a facade hit by a sledgehammer. "You can't do this! I'll have your badges for this outrage!"
"Dad?" Harry's voice cracked with genuine panic as Pete spun him around and secured the cuffs behind his back. "What's happening? I want my lawyer! This is harassment!"
"You have the right to remain silent," Jeremy began, his voice cutting through their protests with professional calm as he read them their rights. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
Terry watched with cold satisfaction. These men had terrorized his family, endangered children, and poisoned their community for profit. Seeing them reduced to just another pair of suspects in handcuffs felt like the first installment of justice.
A deputy vehicle arrived within minutes to transport the two men separately to the station. Terry was grateful to avoid the continued threats and bluster that he had no doubt filled the entire ride back to headquarters.
Back at the station, the two men were processed and taken down the hall for questioning.
Harrison alternated between demands for his attorney and promises to destroy their careers, while Harry seemed to shrink into himself with each passing step, the reality of his situation finally penetrating his privileged bubble.
Terry positioned himself behind the one-way glass, watching as both Harrison and Harry sat in separate interview rooms, each flanked by high-priced attorneys who'd materialized within an hour of the arrests like expensive vultures drawn to fresh carrion.
The lawyers had immediately advised their clients to remain silent, turning what should have been straightforward interrogations into a careful dance of legal maneuvering and strategic silence.
Harry's expensive clothes were wrinkled now, his face pale and sweaty under the harsh fluorescent lights that made everyone look guilty. His lawyer was a sharp-suited man from Virginia Beach, sitting beside him with the practiced stillness of someone who billed by the hour.
"Look, Harry," Jeremy said, leaning back in his chair with a practiced casualness that belied the steel in his voice. "We've got multiple witnesses who identified you in the beach house room where the drugs were found during the party. Your best bet is to start talking."
At first, Harry remained silent.
“And we have evidence of you cooking the books for Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes, laundering money from the sale of drugs.”
Harry's composure was cracking, but he continued to follow his attorney's advice and remained quiet.
Adding to the pressure, Pete pushed. “And one of those witnesses has now told us you brought the drugs.”
Terry grinned, knowing Robert had made no such confession, but Harry didn’t know that.
It was easy to see Harry begin to crumble under the weight of accumulated pressure which didn't surprise Terry.
The younger Blackwood had always struck him as someone who'd inherited his father's arrogance without developing the backbone to match.
"It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know about the party. I just went to give Robert something."
Terry leaned closer to the glass, recognizing the moment when a suspect started to break.
"Tell us about the contracts," Pete pressed, his voice deceptively gentle. "The inflated billing to your clients."
Harry shot a glance at his attorney, but even though the man shook his head, it was as though Harry could no longer maintain the pretense.
He ran his hands through his hair, the gesture making him look younger and more vulnerable.
"I pad the subcontractor costs. Take the actual cost of a job, we bill the client 50 to 75 percent higher.
The extra money gets cleaned through our books. "
"Where does the money come from that needs to be laundered?" Pete asked, his tone remaining conversational despite the question's significance.
Harry licked his lips nervously, barely sparing a glance at his attorney before answering. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know specifically."
"Whose idea was this system?"
Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times before Jeremy leaned closer. “Work with us, and we can make things easier on you.”
"It was my dad's," Harry said softly, throwing his father under the bus without hesitation, though his voice dropped to a whisper as though volume could lessen the betrayal.
"He set up the whole system after I got into trouble in college.
He was approached by an attorney who worked for someone who said it was the only way to keep me out of prison. "
Terry felt cold satisfaction as Harry continued to talk, laying out the entire money-laundering operation in methodical detail.
By this time, his attorney could see that his client was more concerned with saving his own skin than protecting his father and was clearly calculating the advantages of a plea deal.
An hour later, they moved to Harrison's interview room. The older Blackwood sat ramrod straight in his chair, his silver hair still perfectly styled despite the circumstances, his posture radiating years of buying his way out of problems.
"I don't know why I'm here," Harrison said, his voice carrying the same authority he'd used at the American Legion meeting when positioning himself as a pillar of the community.
"My client has no knowledge of any wrongdoing." Harrison's attorney, a sharp-dressed woman from Richmond with a reputation for defending white-collar criminals, stated firmly. "These charges are baseless harassment of a respected businessman."
Terry grinned. He’d heard that Harrison had put in a call to Marcus Webb, but that attorney was unable to come over to the Shore.
Eyeing this attorney, he knew it was possible she could delay the process and create reasonable doubt, but she didn’t have the connections to make overwhelming evidence disappear.
He watched as Jeremy and Pete settled into their chairs with the patient confidence of hunters who'd cornered their prey.
"Mr. Blackwood," Jeremy began, his voice carrying deliberate calm as he opened a thick folder of documents, "your son has been invaluable in explaining your business practices."
Harrison's attorney leaned forward with practiced aggression. "My client hasn't said anything yet."
"He doesn't need to," Pete replied smoothly, opening the folder to reveal pages of documentation. "Your son just told us everything. The money laundering. The drug connections. How you’ve cleaned cartel money through your construction business for years."
Terry studied Harrison's face as the information sank in, looking for the telltale signs of a man realizing his world was collapsing. The polished mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something cold and calculating underneath.
"He wouldn't dare," Harrison said, but Terry could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice.
“Harry brought drugs to the rental house the afternoon before the party. We have witnesses, and he has confessed.”
At this, Harrison’s chin jerked back as the air rushed out in a gasp. “He did what?” he shouted.
Pete grinned. “It seems your son has continued not only in your footsteps with creative contracting and business practices, but he has continued a very lucrative side business of dealing in designer drugs. And he’s willing to throw you under the bus.”
Ignoring Harrison's sputtering curses, Jeremy continued with methodical precision. "We're working on warrants for all your financial records. Your accountant's going to have some very interesting conversations with federal agents."
"This is speculation," Harrison's attorney interjected, but Terry could see doubt creeping into her confident demeanor.
"Is it?" Pete slid a printed transcript across the table like he was dealing a winning hand. "This is your son's statement. Signed and witnessed. He's given us chapter and verse on the entire operation."