"Nice digs," Izzy said. "Upgrade from the tents?"
"Client felt bad about the whole 'almost murdered by avalanche' thing. Comped us the lodge." Kenji's expression grew serious. "Listen, Iz, I did that financial deep dive you asked for."
"And?"
"Reed Osgood is loaded. Like, mysteriously loaded. We're talking offshore accounts, real estate holdings, the works."
Eyes wide, Izzy met Cory’s gaze. “How much are we talking?”
Kenji blew out a breath. “Twenty mil at least.”
Cory’s mouth dropped open. "How certain are you?”
"Dead certain. The money started showing up about three years ago. Small deposits at first, then bigger ones. Always just under reporting limits."
"Structured deposits," Cory muttered. "Classic money laundering. Anything on Tom Morrison?”
Kenji shook his head. “Guy looks completely clean.”
Cory and Izzy shared another look. Maybe yes. Maybe no.
"There’s one other thing," Kenji added, his voice suddenly tentative. "It’s about Andrew."
Izzy tensed beside him. "What about him?"
"That Florida flight school he supposedly works for? It's owned by Sunshine Aviation Services, which is owned by Coastal Air Holdings, which is owned by?—"
"MedFlight," Izzy breathed.
"The lady gets it in one. They're paying him through so many layers it took even Zara hours to trace. Somebody really wanted him to have clean-looking money for this custody play."
"When are you back?" she asked.
"Day after tomorrow, latest. Sooner if you need us. Say the word and?—"
"No." Her voice was firm. "Finish the job. The client needs you."
"The client's safe. You need?—"
"I'm fine. Cory's here, got my six." She glanced at him, something vulnerable flashing across her face before she locked it down. "We're close to breaking this open."
After she disconnected, they sat in silence, processing the implications. All roads led back to MedFlight, and now Reed Osgood, but knowing it and proving it were different animals.
"We need something concrete," Cory said finally. "Paper trail's suggestive but not conclusive."
"Reed's dirty money would be a start. If you arrest him, the chances are good he’ll want to cut a deal, right? He’ll have to give up MedFlight."
Cory ran a hand over his face. Maybe. Unless the big-money corporation terrified the man into silence. Plus, they hadn’t yet tied Osgood’s millions to payoffs. “We’ve got a long way to go to prove the dots connect,” he cautioned.
He stood, pacing now. "The FBI should be looking at this, but they're too focused on you as a suspect."
"Thanks for the reminder." But there was no heat in it, just exhaustion. “We need to tell them, yeah?”
The old Cory would have agreed instantly. But now, he wasn’t so certain. Oh, he’d make sure they got the intel, but something told him he and Izzy should decide how to play this first.
He watched her return to her screens, shoulders tight with tension. The evidence was building, but it felt like trying to nail Jell-O to a wall. Every time they got close, it slipped away.
Lord, grant us wisdom. Show us what we're missing. Protect her from those who would harm her, and give us the tools to bring justice.
