24. Chapter Twenty Four #2
“Money.”
I hand him the first page.
“Not much at first. That was the problem. Rachel’s finances looked exactly like what you would expect from someone living the way she was living. Irregular deposits, irregular expenses, nothing particularly interesting.”
Lorenzo looks down at the page.
I take a sip of coffee.
“So I stopped looking at her accounts as a whole and started looking at anything that changed during the months before Genevieve died.”
“And?”
“There were yet more deposits, but they were different. More than she could have afforded.”
“How much?”
“Usually between five and nine thousand dollars.”
His gaze lifts.
“Regularly?”
“No. That would have been easier to spot.”
I pull another sheet from the folder.
“Eight thousand four hundred in January. Six thousand two hundred in March. Nine thousand in April. Five thousand eight hundred in June.”
“And no identifiable source.”
“Technically, there were sources.”
I hand him the next page.
“Three different companies.”
He scans the names. “Southfield Consulting Group. Oak Ridge Holdings. Pitt Business Solutions. What do they do?”
“Nothing, as far as I can tell.”
His eyes come back to mine. “Shell companies.”
“Yes.”
I lean forward and pick up my dessert plate, mostly because the cake has been sitting there untouched and looks too delicious to ignore.
“Southfield was incorporated three years ago. No employees that I can find. No operating address beyond a registered agent. Oak Ridge is almost identical. Pitt has a little more paperwork attached to it, but no indication that it actually conducts business.”
“And all three paid Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
“How much altogether?”
“A little over forty-seven thousand dollars.”
“Forty-seven thousand dollars,” he murmurs. “That's how much her twin sister's life was worth to her.”
“She received most of it in the eight months or so before Genevieve's death.”
Lorenzo looks back down at the papers.
I let him read for a moment.
“The payments stop three weeks before Genevieve dies,” I continue. “Then Rachel suddenly starts moving money around.”
“Where?”
“Cash withdrawals. Prepaid cards. A couple of transfers between accounts. Nothing huge individually, but enough that I started wondering whether she was trying to make the original deposits harder to trace.”
“Did she succeed?”
“Obviously not,” I say, a little smugly.
His lips curve slightly.
“I am impressed.”
“You should be. She is a mess.”
I set the plate down again and reach for another document.
“The shell companies, though, are where things get interesting.”
Lorenzo turns another page.
“They share an accountant?”
“No. I thought they might. Different accountants, different registered agents, different mailing addresses.”
“Then what connects them?”
“Money again.”
I slide closer and turn one of the pages toward him.
“Southfield received most of its funding through a holding company called Harbor Peak Management.”
His eyes move over the page.
“Oak Ridge got money from a different company, but when I traced that backward, part of its funding also came through Harbor Peak.”
“And Pitt?”
“Two steps removed, but yes.”
He is quiet.
I pick up my coffee.
“So I started looking at Harbor Peak.”
“And?”
“It used to own several smaller companies. Most of them are gone now.”
I pull out another page.
“But one of them caught my attention.”
I place it in front of him.
“Lakeview Logistics.”
Lorenzo looks down at the name.
I watch him carefully.
His expression remains exactly the same.
Bullshit.
“What about it?” he asks.
Bullshit bullshit.
“Lakeview went out of business two years ago.”
He says nothing.
I turn the page around and tap the date.
“More specifically, a few months after the Chicago branch of Conti Enterprises opened.”
His eyes lift to mine.
There it is.
So small it's barely anything.
But I see it anyway.
I sit back.
“You know the company.” It is not a question.
“I know many companies in Chicago.” Lorenzo reaches for his coffee.
“And the bullshit piles on,” I say.
I stare at him.
He sips.
I take my coffee again and settle back into the sofa.
“Lakeview existed for almost eleven years. Freight management, warehousing, regional transport contracts.”
Lorenzo says nothing.
“The business started losing clients shortly before Conti Enterprises opened here. Then it lost more. Six months later, it shut down.”
Still nothing.
I watch him over the rim of my cup.
“Interesting timing.”
“It happens,” he merely says.
“I suppose it does.”
His gaze meets mine.
“Yes,” he says, almost pleasantly.
I almost smile.
He is going to make me drag every inch of this out of him.
I set down my cup.
“Your family arrived in Chicago, and Lakeview started losing business. Shortly after Conti Enterprises opened, Lakeview shut down. And somehow, money connected to that company eventually moves through Harbor Peak, into three different shell corporations, and from there into Rachel Monroe’s accounts. ”
“Hmm.” He sets his cup down as well, but his expression remains unreadable. “Interesting.”
“Oh, come on, Lorenzo. I know you and your family did not arrive in Chicago, shake a few hands, and become one of the most powerful families in the city because you’re charming.”
One corner of his mouth lifts.
“You think I am charming?”
“I didn't say I think you're charming. I'm simply saying other people may make the mistake of thinking you are.”
I tap the Lakeview paperwork again.
“I know businesses didn’t just decide to get out of your way.”
Lorenzo says nothing.
Exasperated, I stand. Mocha's head lifts, and he follows my movements.
“Lorenzo, they framed your son for murder.”
He stands too, so he's face-to-face with me. “I'm well aware of the situation, Donatella.”
“So why are you withholding information? Are you enjoying this or something?”
“No,” he says, very deliberately.
I study him.
For once, I believe him.
Whatever Lakeview means to Lorenzo, he is definitely not amused by it.
I turn away from him and look into the fire.
I feel Lorenzo step closer. He slides a gentle finger along my shoulder. “You're upset.”
I let out a sound that is half laugh, half exasperated sigh. “I am… confused. And when I am confused, I get annoyed.”
He turns me gently by the shoulder to face him. His eyes are soft now, looking into mine.
“I am not trying to confuse you,” he says.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He takes my face in his hands gently, but he doesn’t kiss me. Just holds me.
“Tell me you know the difference.”
I do. Damn it, I do.
I know the difference between the playful, arrogant man who enjoys watching me squirm over dinner, the father who will do anything for his son, and the dangerous, powerful man who is now looking at me with the past in his eyes.
My anger dissipates like smoke in the wind. “Then tell me what it is.”
His jaw tightens for a second before he says, “I can’t.”
I stare at him in disbelief, then try to pull away, but he holds tight.
“Donna—"
“Can’t or won’t?”
His thumbs move once along my cheeks. “Right now, there is no difference.”
“Do you know how infuriating you are?”
“Yes.”
“Lorenzo.” I sigh. “You can't really expect me to accept that answer.”
“For now, you have to. I also need you to keep investigating.”
I scoff. “You can't be serious.”
“I am.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to tell me he’s just kidding, but when he doesn't, I pull in a slow breath through my nose.
“I know.”
I shake my head. “Fine. But if I find something you don’t like, you don’t get to blame me for finding it.”
“I won’t.”
Mocha gives a sleepy grunt from his bed.
I glance over at him.
“At least one male in this house knows when to keep his mouth shut.”
Lorenzo looks toward Mocha.
“He has excellent instincts.”
I look back at Lorenzo. “So do I.”
His eyes meet mine.
“I know that too.”
I hold his gaze for another second before sidestepping him to pick up my plate of cake.
Lakeview Logistics.
Whatever it means to Lorenzo, he knows more about it than he is willing to tell me.
I intend to find out what.