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“Okay, so there are bank records on here. Like,hisbank statements are here obviously, but there are records in other files. And I can’t really figure out what they are from, so I can’t be too sure, but they kind of look like they could be his dad’s campaign fund.”
Intrigued, Jaxon pulled up a chair. “His campaign fund, you say?”
“Yeah, you know how Roy runs every election against Dad and never wins because everyone knows he’s a slimy asshole who’d probably filet someone alive if given half a chance?” Shea asked.
“Shea…” Owen frowned sternly. “Don’t be needlessly violent. Roy is a fine lawyer.”
“Filet someonefiguratively,” Shea added with a roll of her eyes. “And come on, Dad. Fine lawyer translates to jerk.”
“Most politicians are,” Owen replied. “He’s no worse than any of my other opponents.”
“He’s got Eric. Believe me, he’s worse.”
“Except Eric’s had that information for years and he’s been sitting on it,” Owen reminded her.
“He’s also had a shit relationship with his father,” Jaxon added. “He didn’t even use his last name until recently.”
“Yeah, until he was apparently given access to Roy’s campaign funds,” Shea said excitedly, flipping the mobile around. “That’s got to be what that is, right? Look at the size of it! I don’t even think Dad has this much for campaigning.”
It was quite a large sum. Jaxon reached out and took it from her, scanning through the document and going back to open Eric’s most recent bank statement.
“In all due fairness, an incumbent usually doesn’t have to pay for a lot of campaigning,” Owen said. “The other candidates usually spend more.”
“And this year, he has the funds. And he’s got what he thinks is fuel to get Owen’s popularity tanked,” Jaxon said, his eye suddenly catching on an amount. A rather large and specific amount that was withdrawn. He went back to Eric’s bank app, finding the same number as a deposit there. “Do you think Roy is paying Eric from the campaign fund?” Jaxon asked, glancing up at Owen, who would be the most likely to know.
“No, surely not. That money’s strictly for campaign purposes. If you have informants, you’d have to pay them from your pocket. Otherwise, when your campaign fund gets reviewed, you’d have to explain where the money’s going. That’s a new law in effect for this election, and all the candidates are well aware of its repercussions,” Owen replied, standing up and crossing over to peer over Jaxon’s shoulder.
“The reason I ask,” he began, switching between the two windows. “Is that there are an awful lot of matching amounts leaving and showing up in this account and Eric’s.”
Owen took the mobile and looked for himself, placing it face down on the table when he was finished. “I suppose we’ll have to be sure that the other account is the campaign account.”
“So can I please call Sam and get him to run the account number? At least?” Dave asked.
“Eric’s surely got guys in the police department, though,” Brittany chimed in.
Everyone turned to look at her. She was swirling a last bit of wine in her glass. She shrugged. “What? Doesn’t he?”
“Even if he did, Sam wouldn’t be one of them,” Dave said confidently.
Everyone looked at Jaxon, who sighed. “I mean… it sounds like Eric. I don’t know. It’s becoming very clear to me that I knew very little of what he was up to when I was-”
“Well, it’s a good thing everyone here’s on the same page now, right?”
Jaxon’s head snapped up towards the voice, spotting Brad standing in the door frame between the kitchen and the dining room. He smirked in Jaxon’s direction and sauntered into the room, followed by Teagan.
“God, finally,” Shea quipped. “The drama-queen of the north is back. And no, I don’t mean Teagan this time.”
Teagan swatted Shea’s head as she walked past her, making for a chair that was between Dave and Jaxon. Jaxon hooked his foot around the chair’s leg and dragged it closer, which earned him a smile as she sat down, her leg touching his while she leaned over on the table to pick up the mobile.
“What’d we miss? Since Brad’s dramatic statement wasn’t the truth. You know, because I had to go in the kitchen and de-dramatize the situation, thus missing what was going on out here.”
“Hey,” Brad exclaimed, pulling a chair beside Britt. “First things first… unless someone else already did this?” He glanced around before continuing. “Britt, this is my dad, Owen Madden.”
Owen smiled and reached for her hand, which she gave with a smile. “Pleased to meet you, my dear.”
“Same to you,” she replied.
“That wasn’t awkward in the slightest,” Dave mumbled under his breath.
