Chapter 17 - The Federal Connection
Later that evening, I sat in the dim light of my home office at the mansion. The cleaning crew had spent the entire afternoon scrubbing every surface, erasing the scent of Vanessa’s cloying perfume from my home. I poured myself a single glass of bourbon and opened my secure laptop.
A sharp knock at the French doors leading to the patio broke the silence. I didn't reach for my weapon; I recognized the heavy, rhythmic knock.
I unlocked the door, letting Marcus Vance into the study. Marcus was a senior analyst for the Bureau, a man who could dig up the secrets of a ghost if given enough time. He dropped a thick, manila envelope onto my desk.
"You owe me a very expensive steak, Evie," Marcus said, taking a seat in the leather armchair across from me. "Your girl, Vanessa Vale? That’s not even her real name. She was born Valerie Vane. She changed it legally three years ago after a very messy incident in Miami."
I opened the envelope, pulling out a stack of police reports, mugshots, and financial records. "What kind of incident?" I asked, scanning the documents.
"Grifting," Marcus replied grimly. "She targets high-net-worth men, usually married, isolates them from their families, and drains their accounts. She’s got two prior arrests for wire fraud and extortion, but the charges were dropped because the victims were too embarrassed to testify publicly."
I stared at a mugshot from 2019. Vanessa looked younger, but the dead, empty eyes were exactly the same.
"But that's not the best part," Marcus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I pulled her medical records under a federal subpoena. Six months ago, she was prescribed a heavy, black-box anti-anxiety medication. The side effects include severe mood swings, aggression, and psychotic breaks if mixed with alcohol. She’s been filling the prescription regularly."
I thought about the champagne flute in her hand while she rested her stiletto on my daughter's fingers. A toxic cocktail of greed, pills, and booze.
"Grant brought a violent, convicted grifter into my home and left her alone with my child," I whispered, the rage burning hot in the back of my throat.
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"What do you want me to do?" Marcus asked.
"Call the district attorney," I said, sliding the file back across the desk. "Tell them I have a silver-platter case for felony child abuse and endangerment. I want arrest warrants for both of them by tomorrow morning."
