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Harris blinked rapidly. When she spoke, her voice wavered. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” Cassie fought her own tears. “I don’t know what he was talking about. But he said he wanted his secrets to stay buried with him. He wanted me to tell you to let it go.”
“Let it go?” Harris’s voice was no longer soft. “Why?”
“He said it would be better than the truth.” Cassie fought the mounting force threatening to steal the air from her lungs. “I’ve never heard him talk this way before.” Her voice shook. “I’m scared.”
Harris looked down at her shoes. Cassie could see the gears turning in her head. “You’re here, which means you won’t try to talk me out of following this lead.”
“No,” Cassie said. “I won’t.”
“We’re in this together.” Harris looked up. A tear had slid down her cheek and she didn’t bother to wipe it away. “Right?”
Cassie didn’t answer immediately. Harris’s question wasn’t a small one. David’s final request meant something to her, and the last thing she wanted was to be disloyal to her friends, in life or death. But he had gotten himself mixed up in something big. And he hadn’t told Cassie. The sting of betrayal battled against her fear of learning the truth.
There was no other person on the planet she had revered and respected as much as David, but he was still human—full of flaws, contradictions, and secrets. The prospect of digging up his skeletons terrified her, but now that she knew they existed, she couldn’t imagine a life where she wouldn’t spend every waking moment wondering where they came from.
Cassie gazed into Lincoln’s face and then over at Harris. Their eyes met, and Cassie knew her answer.
“There’s no turning back now.”
4
Harris’s car rental—a gold 2012 Toyota Corolla—was hideous and smelled like an abandoned Burger King.
After throwing her duffel in the trunk and slipping inside, Cassie stopped short of checking under her seat for stale fries or a lost pickle. She didn’t want to know what the center console looked like. If her own was any indication, the compartment was better left to its own devices.
The detective didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t say anything about the car to comment on either the color or the smell. It wasn’t exactly 24-karat, but Cassie didn’t feel inconspicuous. Or sanitary.
“Do we know anything about this address?” Cassie tried to keep the apprehension out of her voice. She trusted Harris, but there was no denying they were going off half-cocked here. “Anything at all?”
“I looked it up beforehand, don’t worry.” Harris must’ve picked up on her doubt. “It’s a jewelry store. Completely ordinary.”
“Something tells me you don’t believe that.”
Harris smirked. “It’s a legitimate business with a website and a phone number. Even had a handful of testimonials. Apparently, they have great customer service. But yeah, if it’s listed on that flash drive, it likely serves another purpose.”
“I had a feeling. What do you think’s going on?”
Harris shrugged. She pulled to a stop at a light and looked over at Cassie. “My first thought was money laundering. They set up a legitimate jewelry store and someone comes in to buy one of the items with stolen or counterfeit money. Now it’s part of the system.” The light turned green, and she hit the gas. “Let’s say they buy a diamond bracelet. That represents the cash they gave their contact at the store. Now they go to another shop—probably a second jewelry store, pawn shop, or private collector. The store owner buys the bracelet for an agreed upon price—”
“The amount they bought the bracelet for at the other shop.”
“Minus a service fee, of course. And now the thief has clean cash, and the store owner has a new piece to sell to their own people. The whole transaction is backed up with a purchase history and proof of authenticity.”
“And the original stolen cash?”
“Same deal. Someone comes in with a piece of jewelry and the cash is split between sales. Now it looks totally ordinary. Police have a harder time tracking it if it ends up in a couple dozen places across the country, and they can’t blame the business for making a transaction.”
“Wouldn’t the police figure it out sooner or later?” Cassie asked. “That the jewelry store is just a front?”
Harris laughed, and Cassie felt the heat of embarrassment creep up her neck. “First of all, this is Chicago. There’s plenty of corruption to go around. Half the cops are getting paid off to look the other way. And that’s being generous.” Harris flipped the turn signal up and took a right. Cassie had no idea where they were. Every street looked the same. “But even if they think the jewelry store is a front, they’d need evidence to get a warrant for a raid. And even if they raided the place, there’s no guarantee they’d find the money. The turnover rate is high for these places.”
“What happens if a regular person walks in and wants to buy something?”
Harris took a left down a one-way street and pulled over. “Their prices are gonna be high, but there are people who’d rather pay for an overpriced item to ensure the quality. The good money launderers will make sure their shop is full of real pieces.” She popped her door open. “Come on. We can walk the rest of the way.”
Cassie climbed out of the car, folding her arms across her chest as if to shrink herself small enough to avoid the assaulting wind. The biting cold nipped at her nose, and she wished she’d thought to buy a scarf.
