Coop’s jaw clenched. In this case, close told him a lot.
“Two, maybe three layers removed,” Sutton continued. “The same entities that move Thomas’s money show up in transactions tied to known Kedrov fronts.”
“Thomas was laundering for him.”
“That’s my read. Wilson Title handles legitimate deals: real estate, development, and investment groups. Kedrov operates through fronts that need exactly that kind of service. Thomas gets greedy, skims from the wrong place, panics, borrows to cover it, and ends up owing the wrong people.”
Before he could respond, his captain came out of his office with a man who had federal agent written all over him. Dark suit, crisp white shirt, expression smug, as if he expected everyone to drop everything and cater to his whims.
Reyes spotted him and waved him over.
“Shit,” Coop muttered.
“What’s happening?” Sutton asked.
“Looks like I’m getting sidelined.”
“What? Why?”
“We’ll pick this up later.” Right before he ended the call, he caught Sutton’s faint, “Dammit, not again,” crackle through.
“Lt. Cooper,” Reyes said as he approached. “This is Special Agent Kyle Morgan. FBI Organized Crime.”
Morgan extended his hand. “Good to meet you in person.”
Coop took it, noting the firm grip.
“I wasn’t aware you two knew each other,” Reyes said.
“Only by phone,” he replied.
“Your captain was filling me in on the raid,” Morgan said. “Sounds like you had a busy weekend.”
“I consider it job security.”
Morgan’s mouth tipped slightly. “Something we all can use.”
Reyes gestured toward his office. “Let’s get to it.”
No one sat. Coop stayed standing. Morgan positioned himself opposite the desk, unhurried, as if he had all day.
Reyes looked between them. “Well?”
Morgan opened a thin folder. “Your raid didn’t simply hit a crime scene. It hit one of Kedrov’s legal business fronts.”
That was it. He’d crossed a line. His jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to apologize for saving a girl’s life.
“We’ve been tracking Kedrov for a year,” Morgan continued. “He hides behind shell companies and development fronts. One of those fronts intersects with your victim.”
“Debra Wilson,” Reyes guessed.
“Her company’s clean,” Morgan said. “Her husband wasn’t. We suspect he was laundering money through her title firm and ended up owing Kedrov.”
Except for a muscle ticking in his cheek, Coop didn’t move. Sutton had told him the same thing.
“But that’s only half the picture,” Morgan said. “A development tied to those shell entities received unusually fast federal support.”
Reyes frowned. “Lots of developments get federal support.”
