"That's all?" The male agent's laugh was harsh. "Your father's been using small businesses all over Crystal Lake to launder millions of dollars. Are you telling me you never noticed?"
Hannah's head spun. "No, that's not—he helps people. He saves old buildings. He invests in the community."
"With money that isn't his." Martinez's voice was silk over steel. "Money that passes through various accounts, including yours, before being cleaned and redistributed. You really expect us to believe you never questioned where it all came from?"
"I—" Hannah's voice faltered. "The bakery's accounts are clean. I keep every receipt, every invoice?—"
"Like these?" Martinez slid more photos across the table. Bank statements. Deposit slips. Papers Hannah had signed without thinking twice because her father had asked her to.
"Did you think it was normal?" The male agent pressed. "The way he was always investing in struggling businesses? The constant flow of cash through your accounts? Did you really never wonder, or did you just not want to know?"
Hannah stared at the papers, at her own signature on documents she couldn't quite remember signing. Her father's voice echoed in her head:Just some routine paperwork, sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.
"I don't—" Her voice rose, panic clawing at her throat. "I don't know anything!"
The agents exchanged a look that made her feel small. Pathetic. Like she was just another liar they'd seen break down in this room.
"Your father isn't the only one we've been watching, Hannah." Martinez's words carried a weight that made Hannah's blood run cold. "You might want to start being honest with yourself."
The implication hung in the air like smoke.
They'd been watching her?
Martinez gathered the photos with precise movements. "Think carefully about how you want to proceed, Ms. Everett. Cooperation now could make things easier for you later."
They stood in unison, leaving Hannah alone with her racing thoughts and the thundering of her heart.
Your father isn't the only one we've been watching.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, suddenly deafening in the silence.
She needed Jake.
She needed him to tell her this wasn't real.
The holdingroom was barely bigger than Sugar & Spice's walk-in freezer. No windows. Just a metal chair, a small table, and the weight of too many questions Hannah couldn't answer.
Her phone felt foreign in her trembling hands—like it belonged to a different Hannah, one who'd woken up this morning believing her life made sense.
Jake's contact photo smiled up at her. She'd taken it at the bakery, catching him mid-laugh as he'd tried to steal a bite of raw cookie dough. His dark eyes crinkled at the corners, his face relaxed and happy. Real.
Her thumb hovered over his name.
She'd never needed him more than she did right now. Never needed his steady voice, his warm hands, his absolute certainty that he could fix anything.
She pressed call.
Ring.
Her heart thundered against her ribs.
Ring.
He always answered by the second ring.
Ring.
Always.
