Chapter 6 - Inside the Leather Archive
The damp smell of old paper and dried ink filled the back seat of the SUV as Emily cracked open the lid of the brown leather suitcase. The dim interior light of the vehicle caught the stark, formal letterhead of an offshore shell corporation registered in the Cayman Islands.
"What is all that?" the stranger asked, keeping his eyes on the winding coastal road ahead while occasionally glancing into the rearview mirror to check for pursuit.
"Evidence," Emily answered quietly, careful not to let the papers shift too much as the SUV took a sharp turn around a cliffside curve. "Insurance fraud, embezzlement, and a series of private medical payouts linked to private sanitariums. Richard Vance didn't just build his fortune; he bought his way out of countless criminal investigations by trading favors with corrupt judges."
In the back seat, eight-year-old Leo wiped his nose with the back of his dirty grey sleeve, peering down into the open bag. "That's the box dad kept in the hidden wall behind his desk," Leo said, his voice surprisingly steady for a child who had endured so much. "I saw him put money in it the night before the men in black suits came to the house."
Emily’s heart softened. She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Leo’s uninjured shoulder. "You're a very observant boy, Leo. But you shouldn't have had to see any of it."
The stranger in the driver's seat let out a low whistle. "You realize what this means, right? Vance isn't just some rich corporate prick who abuses his kids. If these papers link him to those offshore accounts, he's looking at federal penitentiary time. He’s going to hunt us down to the ends of the earth to get this bag back."
"We need to get to a police station," Emily said firmly, though a knot of doubt formed in her stomach. How could she trust the local authorities when the entire judicial system in their county seemed to be in Richard’s pocket?
"Local cops?" The stranger chuckled bitterly, signaling as he merged onto a deserted stretch of highway that stretched toward the state line. "Honey, the sheriff in this county plays golf with Richard Vance every Sunday morning. Handing these papers to local law enforcement is the exact same thing as handing them right back to Richard."
"Then where do we go?" Emily asked, panic creeping back into her tone.
The stranger reached into his leather jacket pocket with one hand, pulled out a burner phone, and tossed it back over the seat into Emily’s lap. "Dial the second number saved in the contacts. Tell the person on the other end that Agent Miller sent you, and that the package is secured."
May you like
Emily picked up the phone, her fingers hovering over the keypad as she stared at the glowing screen.
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