Chapter 3 - My Husband’s Name
I left Lily with the pediatric specialist and stepped into the hallway.
“Say that again.”
Marcus lowered his voice.
“Grant Carlisle appears in a financial ledger seized from the North Star trafficking group.”
My stomach dropped.
North Star was the reason I had been gone.
The organization moved illegal weapons through trucking companies and shell businesses along the Canadian border.
Our team had spent months mapping financial flows.
Grant was not supposed to be anywhere near it.
He ran Carlisle Development.
Luxury real estate.
Office towers.
Hotels.
“Which ledger?”
“The one recovered in Thompson’s cabin.”
I knew the file.
It contained payments to freight brokers.
Politicians.
Private security firms.
“What exactly does it say?”
Marcus hesitated.
“G. Carlisle.”
“Two transfers.”
“Totaling six hundred thousand.”
I leaned against the wall.
“That could be someone else.”
“Yes.”
“But there’s more.”
Of course there was.
“One transfer originated from Carlisle Holdings.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“Because we identified it forty-eight hours ago.”
“And you were still undercover.”
Marcus continued.
“We were verifying before involving you.”
I understood professionally.
Personally, I wanted to break something.
“When?”
“The first payment was eleven months ago.”
Long before my operation began.
The second was made three days after I left Denver.
Grant had moved money while I was unreachable.
“What was the payment for?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Then Marcus asked.
“Who is Vanessa Vale?”
I looked through the glass at Lily.
She was coloring the same red figure.
“Grant’s fiancée, apparently.”
Marcus went silent.
Then.
“Vale?”
“Yes.”
He swore again.
“What?”
“Evelyn, one of North Star’s shell logistics companies is Vale Meridian Freight.”
My body went completely still.
“Who owns it?”
“On paper, several layered companies.”
“But the beneficial owner appears to be Vanessa’s father.”
Suddenly my house did not look like a simple affair anymore.
Grant.
Vanessa.
North Star money.
Lily terrified.
I looked through the glass.
The social worker asked Lily another question.
Lily shook her head violently.
Then covered both ears.
My phone vibrated again.
A text from Grant.
COME HOME.
WE CAN FIX THIS BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING YOU REGRET.
Another followed.
DO NOT INVOLVE YOUR OFFICE.
I stared at the screen.
He knew.
Maybe not everything.
But enough to be afraid of federal attention.
I took screenshots.
Sent them to Marcus.
Then I wrote one sentence back.
DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN.
Grant replied almost instantly.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE WALKING INTO.
I looked at Lily’s bruised hand.
He was wrong.
May you like
I knew exactly what I had walked into.
Evidence.
