The fifth call was to Marcus again.
“I need surveillance,” I said. “I have an address for the LLC that bought the house. DK Investments. I want to know who is living there and what they are doing.”
“Way ahead of you,” Marcus said. “I ran the LLC. The registered agent is Kevin Park. Pat… you’re not going to believe where the address is.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s the house,” Marcus said. “Your sister’s old house. They didn’t sell it to a stranger. They sold it to their shell company.”
“Who is living there?”
“That’s the interesting part,” Marcus said, his tone shifting. “We’ve had chatter about a high-stakes illegal gambling ring moving locations every few months to avoid detection. We lost track of them in April. Guess where they popped up?”
My blood ran cold. “In the house?”
“We have cars coming and going all night,” Marcus confirmed. “High-end vehicles. Lots of foot traffic. We suspect they’re running a poker room and a sports book out of the basement.”
It all clicked into place. The “debts.” The “foreclosure.” The need to get Jess and Tyler out of the house but keep them controlled. Daniel needed the house for his operation, but he couldn’t have a wife and child upstairs while he was running an illegal casino in the basement. So, he gaslighted her into homelessness, stole her identity to fund the operation, and laundered the profits through the fake sale of the house.
He had turned my sister’s sanctuary into a criminal den while she slept in a Honda Accord in a Walmart parking lot.
“Marcus,” I said, staring at the wall. “I want to bury him.”
“We need proof,” Marcus warned. “We need to link the money to him, and we need to prove the signatures are forged. If we go in too early, he claims it’s just a friendly game and the wife signed everything willingly.”
“You’ll get your proof,” I said. “I’m going to the house.”
“Pat, don’t do anything stupid. You’re a civilian now.”
“I’m just going to take some pictures, Marcus. For the family album.”
That evening, I drove past the house. The house Jess had loved. The house where she had planted rose bushes in the front yard.
The driveway was full. A BMW, two Mercedes, a Range Rover. The windows were blacked out with heavy curtains, but I could see the flicker of movement. I parked down the street and raised my camera with the telephoto lens.
I snapped photos of men entering and leaving. And then, the front door opened.
Daniel stepped out onto the porch. He was laughing, holding a glass of amber liquid, wearing a tailored suit that probably cost more than the car Jess was sleeping in. Next to him was Kevin, his brother. And hanging off Daniel’s arm was a woman—young, blonde, wearing a dress that left little to the imagination.
He kissed her. Right there on the porch where Jess used to drink her morning coffee.
I zoomed in. I took the shot.
And then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Marcus.
