Chapter 7 - THE KEY TO C-17
Jessica traced UNIT C-17 to a self-storage facility beyond the airport. Carmen had rented the unit under her own name two months earlier, paying in cash. The manager agreed to preserve the contents and meet police after Jessica explained the missing-person investigation.
Inside were three cardboard boxes, a child's winter coat, and a folding table covered in printed invoices. Damon opened the first box while an officer logged the contents.
There were receipts for the same food shipments Hope House had supposedly received. Different amounts. Different signatures. Different destinations.
“It's not just missing money,” Jessica said. “They're buying food with donated funds, then reselling it to private clients.”
A ledger listed nineteen shelters in Texas and Oklahoma. Some had been billed for twice their actual deliveries; others had been forced to sign receipts to keep what little food arrived.
At the bottom of a yellow legal pad, Carmen had written: ASK BEN ABOUT THE SECOND ACCOUNT.
“Who's Ben?” Damon asked.
Jessica checked the ledger. “Benjamin Park. Senior accountant. He resigned last month.”
Damon found a photograph tucked into the last box. Carmen stood beside a young man in glasses outside Hope House, both holding empty cardboard trays. On the back: Ben saw the transfer. If he talks, they will blame us both.
A detective photographed everything and secured the documents. When Damon stepped outside, his phone rang from a blocked number.
“Mr. Cross?” a man said. “Stop looking for Carmen.”
“Who is this?”
“Someone who doesn't want another child hurt.”
Damon held the phone away so Jessica could hear.
The stranger continued, “You should ask the young girl what she saw beside the blue truck.”
Then a second voice came through, distant and unmistakably female.
“Please,” Carmen Reyes whispered. “Don't tell him where Daisy is.”
May you like
The call went dead.
