Chapter 9 - The Chicago Debt
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The room felt like it was spinning.
"What Chicago people, Peter?" I demanded, stepping out from behind David. "What are you talking about?!"
Peter dropped the duffel bag onto the floor with a heavy thud. He sank against the hallway wall, pulling his hair in pure panic.
"Evan isn't a real estate developer!" Peter confessed, his voice shaking violently. "He’s a high-stakes gambler! He ran up a massive debt at an illegal underground casino in Illinois. They took his car title, his accounts—everything!"
"And you brought him to me?!" I screamed, my voice echoing off the stripped office walls. "You brought a mob gambler to your own sister and niece?!"
"He promised me a cut!" Peter sobbed. "He said Mark’s insurance policy was just sitting there doing nothing! He said we could pay off the casino, buy the commercial lot, and everyone would win!"
"Where is Evan right now, Peter?" David asked, his voice steady as iron.
"He took the physical bearer bonds to a pawn broker down on 5th Street," Peter stammered. "He’s trying to convert them to cash before the troopers put out a warrant!"
David grabbed Peter by his tuxedo lapels, pulling him up off the floor until his toes barely touched the rug.
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"You're coming with us," David growled. "You're going to tell the troopers every single word you just said, or so help me God, I'll deliver you to those Chicago people myself."
At that exact moment, blue and red police lights flashed through the living room blinds. Two state trooper cruisers pulled up into the driveway, their tires screeching against the asphalt.
