He handed her his business card. “We’ve been alerted that Mrs. Decker may be a victim of mail fraud. We were hired to check on her.”
He’d thought Granny had been investigating internet fraud, but Reuben had said these identities Granny hadborroweddidn’t have internet. But their identities had been stolen somehow.
The neighbor examined his card and nodded in relief. “She doesn’t come out much since her hip surgery. We tried to look after her yard while she was in the nursing home, but we don’t like to intrude. She has a daughter out in Oregon who stayed here for a while, but now it’s just some visiting nurse service.”
“Do you know the name of the service?” Jax asked as if just making conversation while watching Evie.
“Oh, they all sound alike, don’t they? Home Health Care or something like that. They’re here twice a week, like clockwork.”
“That’s good to know. A lot of people don’t like to ask for help.” Seeing Evie walk away from the house, he tipped an imaginary hat and strolled across the street to join her.
“She’s waiting for the man to arrive with her million-dollar check,” Evie said in fury, stalking toward the bike as fast as her short legs would go. “She has on her Sunday dress and best earrings and was certain they’d arrive today. She asked me in for tea and cake while she waited, wanting to share her excitement.”
Evie didn’t do anger well. Her cheeks were flushed and steam practically poured from her ears.
Jax held her arm and slowed her down. “So, if these are the dirtbags Mrs. Gump was tracking, you want to take off their hairy balls and shove them down their throats?”
Evie slowed down to breathe and lean into him. “And aren’t you the sweet talker?”
Jax stopped by the concerned neighbor again. “Mrs. Decker is expecting a party and prize that won’t be arriving. Do you think a couple of neighbors might stop by for a short visit to cheer her up?”
“A prize that won’t—” Her eyes widened and her lips tightened. “I’ve heard her talk about those prizes. I’m glad her daughter hired you. We’ll take care of this, thank you.”
“Good neighbors are a blessing,” Evie said more cheerfully as they waved and walked on.
When they reached his bike, she added, “Can we visit the other two as well?”
He glanced at the sun sinking behind the trees. “It’s late and we can’t save the world in a day. And bad things may have happened to Mrs. Gump for trying. Let’s find out more from a safer distance, before they realize we’re on their trail. I’ve picked up a couple of leads.”
The roar of the Harley drowned out any of Evie’s objections. At this hour, by the time they located the other women, anyone believing a million dollars would land on their doorstep today would already be disillusioned. Jax couldn’t fix that. But he sure as hell meant to put a stop to the low-down low-lives who preyed on the lonely.
This felt better than whipping contracts out of textbooks.
Twelve
It wasdark by the time Reuben dropped Roark off at a gas station to limp the last mile to Ariel’s place. The van was in Roark’s name. Anyone watching it might start putting two and two together, so it was best if he kept Ariel at a distance from his van.
Not that Roark thought his father was smart enough to trace him all the way to South Carolina, but he hadn’t survived Afghanistan without good instincts, and his gut said Da wasn’t working alone. Someone had provided his old man with those phone numbers. And the money leaving the local bank looked like a laundry operation. Banking alone was an aberration—Claude LeBlanc always dealt in cash.
The pale blue light of computer screens glimmered in Ariel’s window as Roark walked up the drive. He stopped at her security camera and waved so she knew it was him.
These were the hours he was supposed to sleep, while she worked. But he’d never been much of an early-to-bed sort of guy.
He’d left her some gumbo to heat up. Using the keypad to enter through the kitchen, he checked to see that she’d eaten, then warmed up the leftovers for himself. He and Reuben had stopped for food in Savannah, but he had a few more hours of work ahead of him.
He could hear Ariel in the front room, tapping keys faster than seemed humanly possible. He didn’t know how she saw the keyboard without lights. He hoped she didn’t mind him sitting in here while she worked, because the mosquitoes would eat him alive outside.
She buzzed a text while he ate—a phone number. Was he supposed to call it?
He ran a search on the number with his browser as he swiped his bowl clean with the last of the bread. Huh, the number was all over the place, probably a burner. What did she want him to do with it?
After washing out his bowl and wiping off the table, he grabbed his laptop and dared to creep down the hall to the back bedroom. The recliner was theoretically his bed. She’d said he could sleep while she worked. Not that he intended to sleep.
To the tune of crickets chirping outside and Ariel tapping away down the hall, he ran the texted number through the list of his father’s victims. Bingo.
Why this one out of the thousands? Because it was a burner, an aberration? Burner numbers never hung around long enough to be stolen from wherever these thieves had compiled their numbers, did they?
What if... He sent the number to Reuben to check against the ones Granny had been using. They still hadn’t worked out what the ex-FBI agent was up to, but if she was infiltrating rackets like his da’s—or running them—a burner app would make sense.