Chapter 8 - THE FATHER
Richard Cross was seventy-two years old and worth nearly nine billion dollars.
He had built Cross Development from a two-man construction company into one of the largest privately held real-estate firms in the country.
He was respected.
Feared.
Photographed beside governors.
Interviewed by business magazines.
And, according to Vanessa, possibly connected to Rachel’s crash.
Julian refused to believe it.
“My father would never hurt Rachel.”
Naomi sat across from him inside the police interview room.
“Maybe not.”
“Then why would Vanessa say that?”
“To hurt you.”
“Exactly.”
“Or because she knows something.”
Julian stood abruptly.
“My father raised us after our mother died.”
Naomi stayed calm.
“I’m not accusing him.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking we verify before we decide.”
Julian looked away.
Marcus entered carrying two coffees.
“Good news and terrible news.”
Julian turned.
“Start with terrible.”
“The warehouse gun is registered to Trevor. That part is easy. The attempted shooting situation is on camera.”
“And Vanessa?”
“Financial crimes unit is already reviewing the foundation transfers.”
“Good news?”
Marcus set down a folder.
“They found Rachel’s old cloud backup.”
Julian sat.
Marcus opened the file.
“She uploaded photos of invoices, company ledgers, and messages.”
Naomi scanned the pages.
One company name appeared repeatedly.
Rosewood Property Solutions.
That was the Rosewood file.
A shell contractor.
Millions in invoices.
Many connected to Cross Development.
Julian pointed.
“I know Rosewood.”
Naomi looked up.
“You do?”
“My father used them years ago.”
“For what?”
“Land acquisition.”
Marcus sat down.
“How many years?”
“Ten. Maybe fifteen.”
“Before Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
Naomi felt the investigation shift.
The charity theft might have been Vanessa’s crime.
But Rosewood existed long before she entered the family.
Marcus turned another page.
Payments flowed from Rosewood into a law firm.
From the law firm into trusts.
From trusts into accounts controlled by executives.
One name appeared.
Richard Cross.
Julian stared at it.
“No.”
Marcus said nothing.
Julian grabbed the page.
“This could be legitimate.”
“It could.”
“It’s probably tax structuring.”
“Could be.”
“Stop saying that.”
Marcus leaned back.
“What would you prefer?”
Julian dropped the page.
“The truth.”
Naomi said, “Then we follow the records.”
Julian rubbed his eyes.
His phone rang.
Rachel.
He stared at her name.
Naomi gestured.
“Answer.”
Julian picked up.
“Rach?”
His face softened immediately.
Then changed.
“What?”
Naomi leaned forward.
Julian listened.
“When?”
Another pause.
“No. Don’t touch anything.”
He stood.
“We’re coming.”
He hung up.
Naomi was already grabbing her coat.
“What happened?”
Julian looked at them.
“Someone broke into Rachel’s house.”
Marcus swore.
“Is she hurt?”
“No.”
“What did they take?”
“That’s the strange part.”
Naomi stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Marcus frowned.
Julian continued.
“Rachel says the entire house is untouched.”
“Then how does she know someone was there?”
Julian looked toward the door.
“Because they left something on her bed.”
“What?”
He swallowed.
“A photograph of her crashed car.”
Naomi felt a chill.
“And on the back?”
Julian’s voice dropped.
“One sentence.”
He looked at Naomi.
May you like
“‘You survived once.’”
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