Like a bat out of hell, I dashed around his desk and looked over his shoulder at the computer screen. “What?”
He twisted in his chair. “I met with Patrick’s accountant this morning and told him I needed bank statements for All My Women for the past two years.”
Exasperated, I said, “Why would you do that? He’s going to want to know why.”
“Relax, Logan. This isn’t my first rodeo. I fed him a bullshit story that the Financial Action Task Force is cracking down on certain types of wire transfers, looking for terrorist cells. I explained to him that I needed to see for myself exactly where Patrick was moving the money so I could advise him on what he should and shouldn’t be doing to avoid being targeted, or worse, being pinned as a terrorist.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “You must have had Hal shaking in his shoes.”
His eyebrows popped in amusement. “More like shitting his pants. He emailed me the statements as soon as he got back to his office.”
“Sounds like you found something interesting.”
“I did. And not just the fact that the five million used to make the drug buy that went bad wiped out Patrick’s operating fund.”
“Completely?”
“Just about. That’s why he’s freaking out.”
“What else?”
My father turned back around and used his mouse to highlight something on the screen. “Look at this.”
I leaned closer and twisted my lips. “It’s a withdrawal.”
He highlighted a deposit. Then a withdrawal. Then another one of each. And then another.
“Okay, Pop, so someone is withdrawing a lot of money.”
He zoomed in on the withdrawal slip. “Not just someone. Tommy. The dumb shit has been depositing money and withdrawing more than the deposit on the next day for some time now.”
“Would explain the lack of money in the operating.”
“Yes, it does.”
I shook my head. “What? Is it Tommy’s idea of laundering?”
His brows rose. “Who knows, but he knows it’s forbidden in the organization. These are unsanctioned cash withdrawals and although they occur often during most of the statements I have, they started ramping up even more about six months ago.”
“How do you know Patrick is unaware of this?”
“Trust me, he is. Tommy is going to the bank and making the small deposits and larger withdrawals himself. Patrick would never allow that. Too risky. The dirty money has to be cleaned first—always. That’s Patrick’s rule. Patrick also doesn’t allow cash withdrawals. Funny thing is, Tommy stopped this activity three months ago.”
With a slow shake of my head, I said, “When O’Shea’s wife disappeared?”
My father turned back around. “Yes. But I’m not sure the two are connected.”
“But possibly?”
He shrugged. “The only thing I’m sure of is that something was going on behind Patrick’s back.”
“More drug buys?”
“Could be. Tommy knows Patrick doesn’t want Blue Hill relying on the drug trade to earn.”
“Do you think he’d be that stupid to defy his father?”
“I don’t know, Logan, but I’ve been thinking about this whole situation. Tommy first brought Patrick’s attention to the drug ring for a reason.”
“Because he needed the funds?”
“Yes, but why wait so long after the deal went bad to tell Patrick?”
“He tried to handle it himself?”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I wish I knew. At this point Patrick wants his money back, but I’m almost certain he’s looking to eliminate whoever is running the renegade op. It’s like that person is some kind of threat to him or something.”
I leaned back on his desk and crossed my arms. “Okay, so how does this help us move forward with a solution?”
“It doesn’t. But if we can find out who O’Shea’s wife was working for and/or who she was getting the drugs from, we should be able to follow the trail up to the source, which will more than likely be the person in charge of the renegade operation. And if we deliver that person or persons by Friday, that girl you’re so concerned about should be safe.”
That girl.
She wasn’t just that girl anymore.
She was my girl.
Admitting it would be futile, though. What mattered was that I keep her safe. And that I would do, no matter what. “I know where to start,” I said.
My father looked at me skeptically.
I shoved off the desk. “Something happened last night.”
It took me fifteen minutes to tell him what happened to Peyton. He had so many questions—why was I there, what was I thinking, I shouldn’t even be near Elle. When the lecture started, I started for the door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To see Declan Mulligan. I’ll call you later.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I indicated my appearance. “I’m in a suit—what am I going to do?”
My father said, “That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’ll be smart.”
“Dinner?”