Chapter 4 - The Maverick Attorney

The next morning, Finnley stood before a modest brick building on the outskirts of the city. The brass plaque on the door read: Marcus Vance, Attorney at Law. Unlike the high-rise corporate firms Reagan frequented, Vance’s office felt grounded, smelling of old paper and fresh coffee.

Marcus Vance was a sharp-eyed man in his late fifties, with graying hair and a demeanor that radiated absolute competence. He looked at Finnley’s worn clothes and prison-issued ID, then at the vintage leather briefcase placed on his desk.

"Your father was a good man, Finnley," Marcus said, pouring two mugs of black coffee. "When he stopped answering my calls a year ago, Reagan told me he had been moved to a private hospice in Switzerland for experimental treatment. I knew it was a lie, but without a body or a client signature, my hands were tied. What do you have in there?"

Finnley opened the briefcase, laying out the encrypted flash drives and the real will. "My father was poisoned, Mr. Vance. And I was framed. Carter used a keystroke logger on my childhood computer to steal my security credentials and transfer three hundred thousand dollars from the corporate reserve."

Marcus spent the next three hours analyzing the financial documents. His expression grew increasingly grim, then transformed into a cold, professional smile. "This is beautiful work. Your father didn't just collect data; he built an airtight trap. The digital signatures on these offshore transfers don't match your keystroke cadence. In forensics, we can prove that the person typing these commands had a completely different typing speed and rhythm—matching Carter’s profile exactly."

"Can we go to the police?" Finnley asked.

May you like

"For eight years, my wife’s family laughed at me for being a “broke hand...

I spent my entire life building an empire that no one could disrupt—unti...

The Mafia Boss’s Daughter Had Not Walked in Six Years—Until a Shy Maid N...

"Not the local police," Marcus shook his head. "Reagan’s brother is the deputy chief of the local district. If we drop this on their desks, the evidence will vanish before lunchtime. We take this to the State Attorney General’s financial crimes division. But first, we need to locate your father’s actual resting place. We need an autopsy to prove the poisoning."

Finnley gripped his coffee mug. "The groundskeeper said he wasn't buried at Pinecrest. If he’s not there, where is he?"