The Wrong Accountant
When the officers brought him to the precinct, he didn’t cower. He demanded his high-priced defense attorney and threatened the entire department with career-ending lawsuits.
He assumed this was a misunderstanding—a minor trespassing charge he could easily squash.
He didn’t know what else Ortiz had been doing while he was distracted by the bait.
I sat in the observation room behind the two-way glass, watching him pace the interrogation room. Ortiz stood beside me, holding a plastic evidence bag.
“When we arrested him, we searched his person incident to arrest,” Ortiz explained quietly. “He didn’t just have his car keys. He had a secondary key ring hidden in his sock.”
Ortiz had immediately dispatched a team. The key belonged to a climate-controlled storage facility just outside the city limits. The unit had been rented three months ago under the name Apex Solutions—Vanessa’s shell company.