Perfect. You're going to want to see this.
Sandra spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on other cases, but her mind kept drifting to Rupert's conversation with Marcus Webb. The fact that Blackwood's attorney was asking specific questions about her caseload suggested Harry had reported their meeting up the chain. And if they were concerned enough to start background checks, she was definitely onto something significant.
At three o'clock, Sandra found herself in Lia's office, watching her friend spread computer printouts across her desk like tarot cards.
"Okay, remember how you said the markup percentages seemed high?" Lia's eyes were bright with the excitement of someone who'd solved a complex puzzle. "I ran some comparative analyses, and Sandra, this isn't just overcharging."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, the pattern is too perfect, too systematic." Lia pointed to a series of highlighted numbers. "Look at these invoices. The markups aren't random. They're calculated to hit specific dollar amounts."
Sandra leaned closer, studying the figures. "I'm not following."
"Money Laundering 101," Lia explained. "You take dirty money and run it through legitimate businesses to make it clean. But you need a way to justify the extra cash flow." She tapped another sheet. "These inflated invoices? They're not just paddingprofits. They're providing paper trails for money that came from somewhere else."
Sandra felt the pieces clicking into place. "So the extra money on Manuel's electrical work..."
"Probably represents dirty money that needed to be laundered through a legitimate construction project. The homeowner pays the inflated amount, Blackwood pays the contractor the real amount, and the difference gets washed clean through their books."
"How much money are we talking about?"
Lia pulled out a calculator and started running numbers. "Based on just the contracts you showed me? Conservatively? They're laundering between fifty and seventy-five thousand dollars per house."
Sandra's mouth went dry. "And they build how many houses a year?"
"According to their website, about forty custom homes annually between both locations." Lia's expression was grim. "Sandra, if this pattern holds across all their projects, we're looking at two to three million dollars in laundered money per year."
The magnitude of the operation hit Sandra like a physical blow. This wasn't small-time fraud—this was organized crime using construction projects as a front for massive money laundering.
"There's more," Lia continued. "I did some research on their charitable contributions. The timing of their donations correlates almost perfectly with their contract completions. They finish a house, launder money through inflated billing, then make large charitable donations that further legitimize the cash flow while building community goodwill."
Sandra thought about Harrison Blackwood's carefully cultivated reputation, his presence at every community event,his generous donations to youth sports and local churches. It was all part of an elaborate cover story.
"Lia, I need you to document everything. Every calculation, every pattern you've found." Sandra's voice remained steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. "This is going to the authorities."
"Already on it. But Sandra, if they're laundering this much money, these aren't just local contractors cutting corners. This is organized crime territory." Lia's expression was serious now, the excitement replaced by concern. "You need to be very careful who you trust with this information."
Sandra nodded, thinking about Marcus Webb's fishing expedition with Rupert. They already knew she was asking questions. The question was, how far would they go to protect a multi-million-dollar operation?
As she drove back to her office, Sandra's phone rang. Terry's name on the display made her smile despite everything. "Hey," she answered.
"Hey, yourself. How's your day going?"
Sandra glanced in her rearview mirror, noting a dark sedan that seemed to be maintaining the same distance behind her. It was probably nothing, but after Lia's warnings about organized crime, she was seeing threats everywhere.
"Interesting," she said carefully. "I'll tell you about it tonight."
"Everything okay? You sound tense."
"Just work stuff. Nothing I can't handle."
But as Sandra hung up and continued driving toward her office, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was in deeper water than she'd realized. And somewhere behind her, that dark sedan continued to follow at exactly the same distance until she turned into the parking lot.
39
Sandra had never been to an American Legion youth baseball game since moving to the Shore, and she could see what she'd been missing. The ball field sat on the edge of Baytown, surrounded by the kind of weathered charm that made small-town life special. The stands were filled not just with parents, but with neighbors and friends who'd come to support the kids.
She recognized many faces from various community events—law enforcement from both counties, business owners, and fellow American Legion Auxiliary members who waved as she and Emma climbed the bleachers.
