Faith had been quietly taking all this in, but now she mumbled, “Mom.”
“Right,” Will confirmed. “Chuck Finn and Hironobu Kwon were in the same rehab facility for at least a month. Chuck must’ve told Hironobu about the money. Ricardo was about to die, so Hironobu says, ‘I know where I can get almost a million in cash.’ Benny Choo takes him up on the offer.”
Amanda picked up the story. “That’s what they were looking for at Evelyn’s. They thought she had money at the house. When she didn’t give it up, they took her.”
Sara thought it was convenient that Amanda had skipped over the fact that Hector Ortiz, the cousin of one of the most powerful drug lords in Atlanta, was dead in Evelyn’s trunk. She should’ve kept her mouth shut, but this was her house, they had barged in without notice, and Sara was tired of being polite. “That doesn’t explain why Hector Ortiz was there.”
Amanda raised one eyebrow. “No, it doesn’t, does it?”
Sara didn’t work for this woman. She wasn’t going to walk on eggshells. “You’re not going to answer the question?”
There was a crocodile smile on Amanda’s lips. “The more important issue here is that they did all of this because they want money. We can negotiate with people who want money.”
Will said, “It’s not about money.”
“We don’t have time for your woman’s intuition,” Amanda snapped.
His voice sounded tired, but he didn’t back down. “They’re trying to get Faith trapped in that house for a reason. If we go in without knowing that reason, then it’s not going to end well. Not for any of us.” What he said sounded perfectly reasonable, but Sara could tell Amanda wasn’t buying it. Still, he kept trying. “Look, if it was just about money, they would’ve made a ransom demand the first day. They wouldn’t be doing this back-and-forth through Facebook. They wouldn’t risk meeting Faith face-to-face in the grocery store. It would be a simple transaction. Make the call. Pick up the money. Leave the hostage somewhere, and you’re home free.”
Again, a reasonable assumption. Again, Amanda ignored it.
She said, “There is no secret endgame here. They want cash. We’ll give them cash. We’ll shove it so far down their throats they’ll be shitting paper all the way to prison.”
“He’s right.” Faith had been staring blankly ahead for most of this exchange, but with her hypoglycemia finally leveled out, she was back to thinking like a detective. “What about the bank account?”
Amanda stood up to get more coffee. “The account doesn’t matter.”
Will seemed ready to disagree, but for his own reasons, he kept silent.
Amanda told Faith, “Your father was a gambler.”
Faith shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“He played poker every weekend.”
“For quarters.” She kept shaking her head. “Dad was an insurance salesman. He hated risk.”
“He wasn’t risking anything. He was very careful.” Amanda went back around the kitchen island and sat down by Faith. “How many times did he and Kenny go to Vegas when you were little?”
Faith was still unconvinced. “That was for work conventions.”
“Bill was methodical about it. He was methodical about everything. You know that. He knew how to bluff and he knew when to walk away. Kenny wasn’t as smart, but that’s a story for another time.” She looked at Will. “Bill didn’t pay taxes on the money. That’s why the bank account was a secret.”
Sara could see her own confusion reflected in Will’s face. Past a certain amount, you couldn’t just walk out of a Vegas casino, or any legal casino in America, for that matter, without paying taxes.
Faith didn’t pick up on this. “I can’t see Dad taking that kind of risk. He hated gambling. He was all over Kenny about it.”
“Because Kenny was an idiot with his money,” Amanda countered. The bitter edge to her voice reminded Sara that the two had dated for many years. “For Bill, it was just fun, blowing off steam, and sometimes he won a lot of money, and sometimes he lost a little, but he always knew when to walk away. It wasn’t an addiction for him. It was sport.”
Will finally spoke up. “Why didn’t Evelyn tell me that when I was investigating her?”
Amanda smiled. “She didn’t tell you a hell of a lot about anything when you were investigating her.”
“No,” he agreed. “But she could’ve easily gotten rid of the suspicion if—”
“There was no suspicion,” Amanda interrupted. She directed her words toward Faith. “Your mother was the one who turned in the team. That’s why they called her Almeja. She was a snitch.”
“What?” Faith’s confusion was almost palpable. She looked at Will as if he had the answers. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
Amanda said, “Because she wanted to protect you. The less you knew, the safer you were.”
Will said, “Then why are you telling her now?”
Amanda was obviously annoyed. “Because you won’t get off that stupid account, even though I’ve told you time and again that it doesn’t matter.”
Will had put his coffee mug on the counter. He slowly turned the handle so that it was parallel to the backsplash.
Faith asked what Sara was thinking. “How did she find out they were taking money?”
Amanda shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Will answered. He obviously wanted to hear the story so that he could find the holes.
Amanda took a deep breath before starting, “There was a bust on the southside, one of the projects in East Point. Evelyn led the raid team into the apartment. Early morning. The bad guys were still asleep, hungover from the night before, with a pile of money sitting on the coffee table and enough coke to take down an elephant.” Amanda started to smile, clearly enjoying the story. “They rounded them up and perp walked them into the street. They had their hands behind their backs, sitting on their knees, staring at the doors on the squad cars to remind them who was in charge. In comes the media, which Boyd could never resist. He lines up the team for photos, with the bad guys in the background. Charlie’s Angels territory. Your mother always hated that part. She usually left—went back to the office to do the paperwork—when the press came. This time, the street was blocked, so she went back into the apartment and looked around for herself.” Amanda pursed her lips. “First thing she notices is that the cash pile doesn’t look like it did before. She said it was stacked into a pyramid when they busted down the door. You know your mom was always the first one in.” Faith nodded. “She said she noticed the pyramid right off, because Zeke used to—”
“Pyramid everything.” Faith explained, “When he was ten or eleven, he started stacking stuff—books, Legos, Matchbox cars—into pyramids.”
“Your mother thought he was autistic. Maybe she was right.” Amanda continued, “Anyway, she noticed the pile, is the point here. That the pyramid was a square when she went back into the apartment. She started watching the team more closely after that, keeping her ear to the ground, tracking which cases made it and which fell apart because evidence was lost or witnesses went missing. And then when she was sure, she came to me.”