Friday Edition, The (22 page)

Brady scanned the document. “Paul Carlos Sandoval. He’s cool. He helps Todd with our team.”

Paul Carlos Sandoval had listed five item numbers on this report. Quantity listed for each item seized was one and under the sub code she saw the letter ‘S’ for suspect. She scanned Sandoval’s description of the drugs seized. “Almost twelve pounds of marijuana. Wow.” She read on. “And three pounds of black tar heroin found in a gym bag were also taken.”

Brady was silent as she continued scanning the report.

“I wonder what the street value of that heroin would be?” she asked.

It was a rhetorical question, but Brady answered. “Depends,” he said. “On how much it gets diluted on the street.”

She glared at him. Her shock that he would know showed. Brady sensed her next question. “Robin told me that,” he said and offered a small smile.

Sam returned her attention to the report. An ‘E’ marked the disposition box. She pointed to the section and looked at Brady.

“The drugs from this report were taken to property and evidence?” she asked.

Brady nodded.

The bottom of the report included a place for remarks. But Sandoval had written nothing in the section. Finally, printed in bold letters in the last box on the lower right-hand corner were the words:

Signature/Commanding Officer

Her eyes shifted slowly toward the box and the initials inside. They were written in their usual clear and concise style:

J.C.

Sam shook her head slowly, not trusting her voice. There may have been other officers at the Grandview Police Department with the same initials, but only one who had the authority to sign off on these reports. Sam knew his handwriting, a flair that slanted just to the right.

Jonathan Church.

She closed the file quickly. “Are there others?” she asked, feeling tightness spread in her chest.

Brady nodded and began to scan the rows of reports looking for the little red dot. Within the hour, she had read through more than twenty drug-related reports. They confirmed what she feared most. Each report listed different drugs confiscated, suspects arrested, and arresting officer. Rey was right. Nothing on the reports followed the same pattern. Except one thing. The same initials appeared in the authorizing box in the lower right-hand corner each time.

Her ex-husband’s.

“No,” she whispered.

Sam tried to ignore the queasy feeling that was closing in on her, making it hard to draw a breath. She glanced around the small room for a chair, but there wasn’t one.

Brady was studying her intently.

“Sam?” he called softly. “Are you okay?”

The sound of his voice brought her eyes to his and the level of his concern surprised her. He studied her eyes until they softened. She laughed slightly.

“I’m fine, Brady. I’m just trying to understand what I’m reading.”

She closed the file and handed it to Brady and he returned it to the shelf. Sam leaned against the wall.

“It hurts me to think she had to do this on her own,” she said finally. “What I’ve learned is mind boggling. Who knows how long Robin and Rey had been doing this?”

“Robin told me since last Fourth of July.”

“Five months before she died.”

Sam closed her eyes and rubbed them hard. After few moments she collected herself. She pushed away from the wall. “I’d better get you home before your parents start to wonder where you are.”

She headed for the door but stopped when she noticed that Brady didn’t follow.

Sam turned to him. “What’s the matter?”

His lack of response told her he knew more. She walked back to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “What else to do you know, Brady?”

“Follow me,” he said and smiled.

Brady and Sam left the police administration offices without being noticed and walked in silence toward an elevator at the opposite end of the main lobby. “Where are we going?” Sam asked when they were inside.

“To my office,” Brady said, not taking his eyes from the numbers as one, then two illuminated. His office was located in the administrative wing. Sam had never been to his office and noticed that the utility room was only big enough to hold his mail cart, a desk and chair. The walls were blank except for a single color photograph over his desk that showed an Air Force fighter jet in flight against a backdrop of perfect indigo sky.

There was a laptop on Brady’s desk. He pulled the chair out, sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. A soft whirling sound filled the tiny office. As the computer finished booting, Sam watched Brady open his middle drawer. He pulled out a hardcover book and she caught a glimpse of the title before he opened it:
The History of Planes
. He pulled an index card from the center of the book. He studied the card a moment and put it down in front of him. He fixed his attention on the computer screen. “Robin wrote these instructions out for me,” he said, pointing a stubby finger at the index card.

He followed each step exactly as it was written. Sam watched as his fingers moved methodically over the keyboard and as the computer responded instantly to his commands. Before he executed the last step, he turned to her. “Watch this,” he said and smiled widely, “this is really cool.”

Sam directed her attention to the computer screen and, as Brady entered the final command, the program’s menu began to scroll down the screen. She drew closer and frowned as she read.

She saw that one of the menus listed a host of corporate accounts. Brady executed another command and a new file popped up on the screen. Sam read intently. The file detailed how money from illegal drug smuggling operations in New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and Denver was bounced around the country until it was wired to accounts in Zurich, Switzerland and Milan, Italy. From there, a map showed how the money was transferred into phony business accounts in the Cayman Islands.

She put a hand on the back of Brady’s chair to steady herself, remembering the afternoon in Robin’s office when she found the tattered document that contained information on hundreds of frozen bank accounts across the country. The Grandview National Bank was on that list.

When Brady hit another command key, a host of banks nationwide popped up on the screen. Sam noticed that the list containing more than twenty banks was in alphabetical order. She followed the bank names listed A-B-C-D-E-F- and held her breath before she got to G. It was there … Grandview National Bank. “You knew this bank was on the list, didn’t you, Brady?”

Brady nodded, then pressed another command and a new file emerged. Her pulse raced with excitement. She couldn’t read fast enough.

Large sums of cash were smuggled out of this Denver suburb and staggering amounts of money had been laundered over a ten-month period. When Sam saw the total amount she gasped. “Fifty million dollars and it’s all coming from inside this department,” she said.

Brady nodded without turning to look at her. She could tell by watching his index finger tapping eagerly on the keys that he was impatient to execute the next command. “There’s more?” she asked.

Brady responded by pressing the appropriate key. Another file filled the screen. Sam studied the information before her a moment. They exchanged glances. There was a twinkle in his eye and he was sitting as straight and tall as Sam had ever seen him. “How long have you known about this, Brady?”

He shrugged. He didn’t know, really. “A while,” he said. “But Robin asked me not to tell and now I’m sorry I didn’t, but I couldn’t…”

Brady’s voice trailed off when Sam rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. She patted it gently, as if to assure him. When she spoke, her voice was gentle, almost a whisper. “Brady, you’re doing what you have to do.”

The words at the top of the new document Brady had opened said:

Tepatitlan de Morelos

Sam rubbed her fingers over pursed lips. “What’s a city in Mexico have to do with this investigation?”

It took her off guard when Brady offered: “Robin told me that it wasn’t just a tidy community of well-do-chicken-farmers and thriving small businesses.”

“What is it then?” she asked.

“Robin said it’s probably one of the largest money-laundering capitals of the Americas.”

Sam squeezed the back of Brady’s chair harder. “How did she know that?”

Brady pressed another key and another file opened. Sam read in silence. The dryly worded document was several indictments unsealed in a federal court in Los Angeles the day after Labor Day last year. It depicted this Mexican city, one hour east of Guadalajara, as the heart of the most extensive money-laundering probes ever undertaken by U.S. investigators.

The file showed how no fewer than four local banks, branches of some of Mexico’s largest and most respected national banking institutions, came to be involved in cleansing money made from cocaine and heroin deals in the United States. The indictments recorded that the Tepatitlan banks laundered more than $35 million in drug money over the last two years.

“Is there more?” Sam asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen.

Brady nodded.

“I’ve seen enough for now,” she said and stepped away from the computer. “We can’t risk going through everything now and take the chance of getting caught.”

Without a word Brady opened another desk drawer and pulled two flash drives from a hidden compartment.

“It’s all on these,” he said and handed one to her. “Robin wanted me to keep the files in my office for safekeeping. ’Cause she knew that no one would ever think to come look for anything here. She was gonna give it to you when she was ready. She was just about there. There’s lots more on the disk that you haven’t seen yet.”

Sam took the flash drive lightly between her thumb and index finger. She studied the screen a moment more and then fixed her attention on Brady. He was staring intently at the monitor. Though she couldn’t be sure, she thought she saw a satisfied smile on his face.

He continued to stare at the monitor. “We went for a walk around Crown Hill in July and that’s when Robin told me everything. She made me promise not to say anything…” His voice fell away and he took his fingers off the keyboard and let them fall into his lap.

Sam saw his long face. She rested her hand gently on his shoulder, “Brady, look at me.”

He did.

“I know how you feel. You’re telling me things you promised Robin you would never say. I know that makes you feel badly, but you’re doing the right thing.”

“How?” he asked simply.

“How?” Sam echoed, “By telling me, you’re helping her.”

Brady’s face brightened. “Really?”

“Yes, really. By helping me you’re helping Robin.”

Her words made Brady sit straight again in his chair.

She glanced at her watch. “We’d better get out of here and get you home.”

Sam slid the flash drive safely into a pocket in her purse. Brady shut down the computer and within minutes they were outside following their breath toward Wilson’s Honda. They were in front of Brady’s house a few minutes later. Before he could get out of the car, Sam put her hand on his arm. He looked at her.

“Brady, why do you want to help me all of a sudden?”

He turned to face her. “I guess I didn’t believe you wanted to help Robin.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “I want nothing more in this world than that.”

“I know that now,” he said, nodding his head slightly.

“What changed your mind?” she asked.

Brady hesitated a moment as though he considered how to phrase his response. When he spoke he directed his comments to his hands that were folded in his lap. “It seemed all you cared about was drinking. And I wanted you to care about Robin like I did.”

Sam felt a pain stab her in the chest, something fragile and sharp that made her draw a deep breath.

Brady went on. “And now you don’t seem to be drinking so much anymore.”

She smiled. A little. “Knowing what happened to Robin is more important to me right now than anything.”

“And when me and Todd were leaving basketball practice the other night and you were in the car, I guess I knew then that somethin’ was different.”

A figure at the passenger window caught Sam’s attention. “It’s your father,” she said.

Brady rolled down the window. “Hey, dad.”

“What’re you two doing out here?” Wyatt asked.

Sam didn’t expect to see him and thought quickly. “I’m bringing Brady home from basketball practice. Todd had an appointment and asked me to take him.”

“New car?” Wyatt asked, eyeing the Honda.

“Oh,” Sam said tapping the steering wheel with her hands. “This is my publisher’s car. My battery’s dead.”

Wyatt looked mildly surprised and shook his head, then looked at Brady. “You’re late for dinner, so your mother’s put the meat loaf and mashed potatoes in the oven.”

“My favorite,” Brady said and got out of the car.

“Sam, would you like to join Brady for dinner?” Wyatt asked. “There’s plenty for you, too.”

She smiled, but politely declined the offer. She couldn’t tell Wyatt they had already eaten. Brady would just have to eat again. She drove away and watched in her rearview mirror as Brady and Wyatt walked toward the house. Brady put his arm around his father’s shoulder. Wyatt didn’t return the gesture.

On the way home, she thought of what she had seen on the computer screen. It answered many questions that had been spinning in her mind. Except two; she still didn’t know who had murdered Robin and who was responsible for smuggling millions of dollars of illegal drug money from the Grandview Police Department.

But she remembered what Brady said in his office.

And that gave her hope.

She was just about there.