Chapter 6 - The Pawnshop Trap
By Friday morning, Olivia was officially discharged from Phoenix Children’s Hospital under strict orders for daily dressing changes and home rest.
Instead of taking them back to our apartment—which I knew was no longer fully secure—I moved Jessica and Olivia into a private, high-security executive suite at the Ritz-Carlton downtown, booked under an assumed corporate name provided by Marcus’s firm. I kept Officer Rick posted inside the suite and Officer Miller stationed in the hallway twenty-four hours a day.
At 2:00 PM, I met Marcus in the private basement garage of his downtown law office.
Beside Marcus’s Mercedes sat a plain, beat-up silver sedan driven by a man named Ray Chavez—a former NYPD detective who now ran a high-end private intelligence firm in Scottsdale.
"Ray," I said, shaking his hand. "What did you find on the Lincoln Navigator?"
Ray pulled up an iPad screen showing high-resolution aerial photographs of an industrial district in South Phoenix.
"The Navigator belongs to a front company called Apex Property Management," Ray explained in a dry, gravelly voice. "Apex operates out of a converted auto body shop near 27th Avenue and Buckeye Road. It’s surrounded by an eight-foot chain-link fence, equipped with security cameras, and guarded by three local enforcers."
"Is Julian Rossi there?" I asked.
"He arrived yesterday afternoon," Ray nodded. "And your mother, Carmen, is staying in the residential office apartment on the second floor."
I looked at the photographs. The property looked like a fortress, tucked away in an industrial park surrounded by scrap yards and distribution warehouses.
"What’s their play, Ray?" Marcus asked. "Why are they staying in Phoenix instead of running?"
"Because Rossi’s lawyer filed an emergency probate claim in San Diego three hours ago," Ray revealed, tapping the tablet screen to display a court document. "They’re claiming that Jessica Ferris is mentally incompetent due to severe psychological instability, and they’re petitioning the court to appoint Carmen Ferris as her temporary legal conservator."
"Mentally incompetent?!" Marcus shouted, his face turning red. "They abused her for a year, burned her hands, isolated her from society, and now they’re using the psychological trauma they caused to declare her insane?!"
"It’s a classic mob conservatorship play," Ray said smoothly. "If the judge grants the temporary conservatorship—even for thirty days—Carmen gets total legal authority to sign off on the two-million-dollar estate transfer. Once the money hits Rossi’s offshore account in the Bahamas, Carmen skips the country, and Rossi disappears."
"When is the conservatorship hearing?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
"Monday morning at nine AM in San Diego," Ray answered.
I stared at the photograph of the auto body shop on 27th Avenue.
"We have forty-eight hours," I said.
"Zayden, what are you thinking?" Marcus asked nervously. "We can't attack an industrial warehouse! That’s illegal, and Rossi’s men are armed!"
"I’m not going to attack it, Marcus," I said, turning to look at him. "I’m going to turn Carmen against him."
Marcus blinked. "Turn Carmen? Zayden, she hated your wife! She tried to steal your daughter’s future! She’s loyal to Rossi!"
"Carmen isn't loyal to anyone, Marcus," I corrected coldly. "Carmen is loyal to survival. She’s a coward who uses weak people to feel strong. Right now, she thinks Julian Rossi is her savior because he paid her bail. She doesn't realize that the second that conservatorship paper is signed on Monday, Julian Rossi has zero use for a sixty-two-year-old accomplice who knows too much."
Ray Chavez let out a low, appreciative hum. "He’s right. Rossi has a history in Baltimore. Three of his former business partners vanished right after their legal troubles cleared up. If Carmen signs those papers, she’s a dead woman walking."
"How do we get to her without Rossi’s guards stopping us?" Marcus asked.
I looked at Ray. "Ray, does your firm have directional audio interception equipment?"
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Ray smiled—a sharp, wolfish grin that showed a gold crown on his back tooth. "Mr. Ferris, I have equipment that can hear a mouse sneeze inside a sealed refrigerator from three hundred yards away."
"Good," I said, stepping toward Ray’s car. "Let's go plant a seed in my mother’s ear."
