"Then you better hope you have a really good hiding place," Harry said quietly. "Because the people I answer to don't just write off half-million-dollar losses. They collect. One way or another."
Robert's hand shook as he reached for the door handle. "We're still good, though, right? I mean, once I get you the money, this doesn't change our partnership?"
Harry scrubbed his hand over his face. "Get out of my car, Robert. And get me my money."
After Robert's Audi disappeared into the night, Harry sat alone in the darkness, his hands steady on the steering wheel despite the chaos swirling in his head. The power rush was fading, replaced by the familiar knot of anxiety that came with cleaning up messes.
He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he'd hoped never to use. "It's me," he said when the call connected. "We have a problem."
"Half a million is a significant loss." The voice on the other end was calm, which somehow made it more terrifying than any shout would have been.
"The college kid fucked up. Got raided. But he's going to cover the loss?—"
"He's going to cover it?"
Harry's mouth went dry. "Yes," he said firmly. "I'll have it to you in two days."
"Two days," he agreed. "Not a minute longer."
The line went dead, leaving Harry alone with the weight of what he'd just promised. As he started the BMW and pulled out of the lot, his mind was already racing through possibilities. His position at Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes gave him access to invoices, contracts, and cash flows his father monitored but didn't micromanage.
The irony would have been funny if the stakes weren't so high. Harrison Blackwood had built a money-laundering operation to protect his son. Now Harry was going to learn from that operation to fund his own survival.
By the time he reached his condo, Harry had already identified a dozen invoices he could inflate, contracts he could manipulate, and payments he could redirect. It would require careful timing and meticulous recordkeeping… skills used by his dad.
For the first time since Robert's call about the raid, Harry smiled. This wasn't just about covering a loss anymore. This was about proving he could handle the big leagues, that he was more than just Harrison Blackwood's screwup of a son.
22
Terry leaned against the wall of the interview room, arms crossed, watching Jeremy and Pete conduct their questioning. Claire Smith sat across from them, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, dark circles under her eyes. Unlike the other college students they'd dealt with, she seemed genuinely cooperative rather than entitled and defensive.
"Claire, we appreciate you coming in to talk with us," Jeremy began, his tone gentle but professional.
Claire nodded, wrapping her hands around the coffee cup they'd given her. "I just want to help figure out what happened. The whole… ridiculous thing is so stupid."
"Let's start with the party," Pete said, leaning forward slightly.
She snorted, but he remained quiet, giving her a chance to speak. She inhaled deeply, then let the air out slowly. Squaring her shoulders, she held his gaze resolutely. “There wasn’t supposed to be a party. Not at all. That’s not what we were doing.” She shook her head. “At least, not what we had planned.”
“Okay, so tell us what was planned.”
“It’s a few weeks until graduation. The underclassmen act like it’s still party time, but for those of us in grad school…we can’t afford any mistakes. Papers are due. Dissertations are finalized and defended. Exams still have to be aced.” She sipped her coffee, then set the paper cup back on the table. “I’m not as close to the others… by that I mean Robert, Teddy, Madison, and Bill. They all knew each other as first or second years. I met them when I moved into the same apartment building. Most of us are grad students in that building, and they included me in some dinners out, going to a concert, and catching rides back from the library… that sort of thing. Madison told me a few weeks ago that Robert was considering taking a long weekend to go to the Eastern Shore. He wanted to rent a house with some of us and just spend the time away from campus to study.”
Her shoulders hefted as she sighed. “I thought it sounded like a brilliant plan and said to count me in.”
“And when you got here?” Jeremy prompted. “Was it what you thought it would be?”
“When we arrived on Thursday afternoon, it was just the five of us from UVA. Robert, Madison, Teddy, Bill, and me. We had our textbooks, laptops, the whole setup for a study weekend.” A rueful chuckle slipped out. “The house was awesome. So much bigger and more posh than I ever imagined. We each had our own rooms and bathrooms. Big deck overlooking the bay, a hot tub, and a designer kitchen. It was a dream with plenty of room for quiet study time as well as relaxation.”
"So take us through what happened," Pete prompted. "When did things change?"
Claire took another sip of coffee, gathering her thoughts. "Thursday, Friday, and Saturday morning were all fine. We studied, took breaks to swim and eat, and it was peaceful. Serene. I thought it was a brilliant plan, and knew when I went back that I’d not only be prepared for exams, but I’d be in a great headspace to end my university life.”
Terry watched her body language carefully. She maintained eye contact and kept her posture open. Her voice remained steady. Either she was an excellent liar or she was telling the truth.
“And the party?”
“Yeah, that’s when it got weird, then went to shit.” She swiped her hand over her face, her shoulders slumping. “Around dinnertime, a few people started showing up. Mostly guys, but some girls, too. I'd never seen most of them before. I asked Robert who they were.”
