Chapter 7: The Weight of It
Agent Reyes came to Grace's office the following morning with a colleague named Agent Torres, a woman with a quiet manner and a legal pad she filled steadily throughout the two-hour meeting.
They had already been watching Sterling Logistics.
Not because of me.
Not because of Raymond Holt.
Because of a separate wire transfer that had crossed state lines fourteen months ago — a payment from a Sterling Logistics account to a shell company registered in Delaware that had no employees, no physical address, and no legitimate business purpose.
"The wire transfer flagged an automated review," Reyes said.
"We opened a preliminary inquiry.
In the course of that inquiry, we identified a pattern of asset transfers that led us to the County Recorder's office in Maricopa County, which led us to your name."
"You've been building a case for fourteen months," Grace said.
"A preliminary file.
Yes." Reyes looked at me.
"Mrs.
Sterling, I want to be direct with you.
You are not a subject of this investigation.
Based on what we've reviewed, you appear to be a victim of the scheme, not a participant.
But your cooperation would be valuable."
"She'll cooperate fully," Grace said.
"I'd like to hear that from her."
I looked at Agent Reyes.
"Yes.
I'll cooperate fully."
He nodded.
"We're going to need access to the documents Alexander Vance provided, the forensic report from Raymond Holt's examiner, and any communications you have from Brandon Sterling, including the text message sent Wednesday evening."
"The extortion text," Grace said.
"Yes."
I thought about Brandon standing in the lobby of my office building.
*You want a war, Jessi?
Fine.* The wrinkled suit.
The folded email.
The way he had looked at me at the very end — not with hatred, but with something that looked almost like a man who had run out of road and only just realized it.
"There's also a voicemail," I said.
"From his sister.
She witnessed two of the forged documents.
She came in yesterday and gave a recorded statement."
Torres looked up from her legal pad.
"She came in voluntarily?" Reyes asked.
"Yes."
He and Torres exchanged a brief look.
"We'll need that recording as well."
After they left, Grace and I sat in the conference room for a while without talking.
The legal pad Torres had been writing on was gone, but the indentations were still visible on the blotter underneath.
"This is bigger than I thought," I said.
"Yes."
"The shell company.
The wire transfer.
That's not just hiding assets from a creditor.
That's—"
"That's a different category of problem," Grace said carefully.
"Yes."
I looked at the window.
The Scottsdale afternoon was white with heat.
"He's going to find out the FBI is involved."
"Probably soon.
His attorney will notice the inquiry."
"And then?"
"And then he'll have a decision to make." Grace folded her hands.
"Some people in his position cooperate and try to limit the damage.
Some people panic and make it worse."
"Which do you think Brandon will do?"
She looked at me steadily.
"I think you already know the answer to that."
I did.
That evening I drove home to the house that was legally mine.
I made dinner for one and sat at the kitchen table with the manila folder Alexander had given me at the coffee shop, now considerably thicker with everything that had been added since.
My phone rang.
Wendy.
I stared at the screen through four rings.
Then I picked up.
"Wendy."
"Jessi." Her voice was different.
The satisfaction was gone.
What was left sounded like a woman standing in a room where all the furniture had been removed.
"I need to know what is happening.
Brandon won't speak to me.
His attorney won't return my calls.
Someone from a bank called today asking about a property I didn't know we owned." A pause.
"Or didn't own.
I don't understand what they were saying."
"Wendy, I can't discuss the legal situation with you.
You need your own attorney."
"I don't understand why I would need an attorney."
"Because your son has been managing the family's finances in ways that may affect you.
An attorney can explain your rights and your exposure." I kept my voice neutral.
"I'm not trying to hurt you.
But I can't be the person who explains this to you."
A long silence.
"Did you do this to us?"
There it was.
Even now.
Even with everything falling apart, the instinct was to find a way to make it my fault.
"No," I said.
"I didn't."
She hung up without another word.
I set the phone down and looked at the folder.
Somewhere in the city, Brandon was making decisions.
I didn't know which kind yet.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unsaved number I didn't recognize.
*Mrs.
Sterling.
This is Marcus Webb, Brandon's attorney.
My client would like to discuss a full cooperation agreement with your legal team and the relevant authorities.
He is prepared to provide complete disclosure in exchange for consideration on sentencing.
He asks only that you be informed directly.
He says you deserve that much.*
I read it three times.
Then I called Grace.
"He's going to cooperate," I said when she picked up.
A pause.
"When did you find out?"
"Just now.
His attorney texted me directly."
"That's irregular." Another pause.
"But it tells us something."
"What?"
May you like
"That Brandon Sterling is more afraid of what's coming than he is of losing." Grace's voice was quiet and even.
"Which means what's coming is worse than we know."
