Page 74 of Faron
If they wanted to silence me, they were too late.
Because this time… I wasn’t the only one remembering. I had to find whoever wrote this.
69
Aponi
Icircled back to the front of the building, slow and deliberate, one hand on my weapon.
Nothing.
Just the hum of traffic and the glow of early morning casting long shadows across the pavement.
Still, I felt it—thatwrongnesscrawling up the back of my neck. The kind of sixth sense that keeps a detective alive.
I slid into my car, started the engine, and merged into traffic. But I didn’t go straight home. I took turns that made no sense. A zigzag of side streets and back alleys. I looped through a grocery store parking lot, pulled into a car wash, then back out again.
And that’s when I saw him.
Black sedan. Windows tinted too dark. Keeping pace two cars back. I pulled over.
“Not very subtle,” I muttered, grabbing my phone and snapping a photo of the license plate.
I texted it to Tag.
Me:
You up?
Check this plate. Possible tail.
Tag:
Damn. You always drag me into your messes before I’ve had coffee.
Gimme a sec.
I didn’t go home. Instead, I parked in front of the precinct and walked inside like I owned the place.
The car didn’t follow.
Coward.
Good.
I was done playing defense.
Two hours later,Tag showed up in person—hoodie, tactical boots, and a scowl like the sun offended him.
“Your mystery sedan belongs to a shell corp linked to the same offshore account you flagged last month. Wanna guess who co-signed that withdrawal?”
“Don’t say Caleb.”
“Oh, I wasn’t gonna.” He smirked. “I was gonna sayhis lawyer.Caleb might be dead, but the money’s still moving.”
I leaned back against my desk. “So someone’s still protecting whatever he was involved in.”
“Or still profiting off it.”
