Chapter 7 - Meeting A Federal Investigator In A Downtown Diner
The neon sign of an all-night diner flickered against the wet asphalt in downtown Chicago at two in the morning.
I slid into a cracked vinyl booth near the back corner, ordering a black coffee I had no intention of drinking.
Ten minutes later, a man in a rumpled trench coat slid into the seat across from me without an introduction.
“Agent Miller?” I asked quietly, keeping my voice low and steady despite the exhaustion gripping my bones.
“You’re Victoria Blackwood,” the investigator said, sliding a manila folder across the sticky table surface.
“Word travels fast when someone tries to dump sixty million dollars into an offshore account registered to a dead shell.”
“Grant and Eleanor moved the funds to Zurich tonight, but they used my digital signature without my physical consent,” I explained.
Miller opened the folder, revealing printed copies of the fraudulent wire transfers flagged by an independent banking algorithm.
“I know,” Miller nodded grimly. “My division has been tracking Mercer Residential and its subsidiaries for over eighteen months.”
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“Then arrest them,” I urged, leaning forward across the table.
“An arrest warrant requires ironclad proof that you weren't an active participant in the embezzlement scheme.”
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