Then money moved from that company into Dustin’s management operation.
It could be legal.
It could be fraud.
We did not know.
But someone had gone to considerable trouble to disguise the path.
Ray said he wanted to meet.
Not at the gym.
Not alone.
“I already called my attorney,” he added. “And an accountant who doesn’t know my brother.”
That was the first sensible thing anyone had said about the money.
We met that evening in a quiet diner near the courthouse.
Marcy stayed home with Ellen.
Ray brought his attorney, a woman named Susan Patel.
I liked her immediately because she had no interest in legends.
She shook my hand.
“Mr. Carter.”
“Jack.”
“Ray says you’re intimidating.”
Ray frowned.
“I did not say that.”
Susan opened a folder.
“He used significantly more words, but that was the summary.”
For the first time since entering Dustin’s gym, I laughed.
