“Why would my father send Isabel’s father that much money?” Her face was a portrait of confusion. “Did my father owe money to this family?”
Isaiah’s forehead creased, his broad shoulders moving slightly. “I looked but couldn’t find a connection. Isabel’s parents clearly weren’t struggling financially. In fact, they seemed to be doing quite well for themselves.”
I racked my brain for a logical explanation. Maybe there was a connection to the LLC who wanted to buy one of our manufacturing plants. “Is it possible it was some sort of silent business investment?”
“Possible, but there were no signs of any return investment.” Isaiah put his hands into his pants pockets.
Suddenly, Liza jumped up from her seat, her eyes alight with urgency. She ran to the opposite side of my desk, grabbed my laptop, and opened it.
I moved to stand over her shoulder, watching as she typed furiously. “Are you looking for something in particular?”
“I’m checking the bank account my parents left for me.” Liza opened the account and entered the login and password. “What if there are other payments out to the families who escaped? I haven’t been paying much attention to it, since I haven’t needed the money—” Liza stopped talking.
“Have you found anything unusual?” Isaiah asked, getting up to lean over the desk.
Liza’s fingers paused on the screen, her breath hitching. “There’s a transaction from a week ago, for ten-point-five million dollars.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief etched across her face. “My parents already left me money… much more than I ever thought I’d see in my life. And now this.”
“Where did it come from?” I tried to maintain a calm exterior despite the growing turmoil inside me.
“An LLC.” Liza’s gaze locked on the screen. “Russell and Son, LLC.”
Shock coursed through me. It couldn’t be the same Russell family I’d researched… the same ones wanting to do business with me.
Isaiah’s fingers danced across the screen of his phone, his face tense as he delved into the information. “The business isn’t registered under Isabel’s father’s name—Mason Russell—anymore. It’s been changed recently to one Liam Russell.”
Without hesitation, I pulled out my phone and shot a text to Tim.
Any changes of ownership to that LLC over the past few days?
I was certain that when I checked it out, the company had been registered under Mason Russell, but now it wasn’t. The connection was too strong to be a mere coincidence.
“I’m more confused than ever.” Liza shook her head in frustration. “Who the hell is Liam Russell?”
I could practically see the wheels turning in her head.
“Perhaps there’s something in the security deposit box that might give us some answers.” Liza turned in the office chair to face Isaiah, her face flushed. “I haven’t given it much thought since Ty told me about it and the money my parents left for me. Honestly, I’ve never even gone to the bank to inquire about it.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe the answers are in that box.”
“Perhaps,” I said, my mind racing with possibilities. “We should check it out.”
“None of this came up with my initial research. I had no idea the business account even existed,” Isaiah said. “But now that I do, I’ll look into it and let you both know what I can find out about Liam Russell.”
“I wish we could figure out the connection here.” Liza stood and crossed her arms, her eyes downcast. “I guess it was unrealistic of me to think we’d find the boy so easily.”
“Leave it all to me.” Isaiah shoved his phone into his back pocket. “I’ll find out everything I can.”
“Thank you, Isaiah.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “We appreciate your help.”
Liza retreated to her office to work on the menus for her next client, while I set about doing damage control with the press. The last thing I needed was for people to think Liza was some sort of supernatural freak. Luckily, there were still no videos about yesterday’s incident, but it had made its way into the localnews site, so pulling the stories was relatively easy after a few well-placed threats.
“Mr. Keller,” the CEO of the local news station said nervously over the phone, “I assure you, we’ll remove the story immediately. It won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” I warned curtly. “If the story isn’t retracted within the next ten minutes, you can kiss the endorsement from the Keller pack goodbye.”
I almost laughed at the horror in the CEO’s voice. He knew fucking well that if he didn’t sit when I said sit, he’d no longer get first dibs on all interviews and live coverage of all pack press releases.
I proceeded to send an email to the owner of a local newspaper, threatening to pull all funding and send the publication into the ground where it was headed anyway, thanks to social media. My fingers flew across the keyboard, each keystroke fueled by instinct to protect Liza, and anger over the whole fucking predicament we’d found ourselves in.
“Your little paper will crumble,” I said aloud as I typed, “and you’ll be left with nothing but the ashes of your own ignorance.”
