Chapter 7 - The Cornered Rat
The interrogation room at the FBI Field Office in Chicago was a windowless concrete bunker designed to break the psychological fortitude of the hardest criminals.
Cody Renfro sat at the metal table, his left jaw swollen and immobilized by a medical brace, his hands cuffed to an eyebolt anchored into the floor. Across from him sat Special Agent Katherine Vance of the FBI’s Financial Crimes Division, flanked by Detective Marcus Vance.
On the table between them lay the decrypted contents of the micro-SD card recovered from Barnaby the bear.
"You're facing twenty-five to life on the state charges alone, Renfro," Agent Vance said, leaning forward and tapping a thick manila folder. "Conspiracy to commit aggravated child abuse. Attempted murder. Armed home invasion. Possession of suppressed firearms during the commission of a violent felony."
Renfro tried to speak, wincing as his broken jaw shifted behind the brace. "I... I wasn't in the house when the child was harmed. That was Amanda. She's a psychopath. I had nothing to do with that."
"You financed it," Detective Vance growled, his face inches from Renfro’s. "You bought the burner phones. You set up the Delaware LLC that drained Blake's equity. You coordinated with the foreign adoption broker in Bucharest to receive the children once David Blake was dead. We have your digital signature on the wire transfers, Cody."
Renfro’s eyes darted frantically between the two agents. "She told me David was abusive! She told me he was laundering money through his firm and that she was trying to protect the assets for the kids!"
Agent Vance let out a dry, humorless laugh. She pulled an eight-by-ten glossy photograph from the folder and tossed it in front of him.
It was a screenshot of an email Renfro had sent to Amanda eight months prior:
> *The thallium protocol is too slow. If Blake lingers into the next fiscal quarter, our credit facility in Delaware will be audited. Double the dosage or find a way to accelerate his breakdown. If he attacks you, you're legally justified in using lethal force. The life insurance policy pays out twice as fast on accidental or violent death.*
Renfro’s face drained of what little color remained. His lips trembled against the medical tape.
"I want a deal," he croaked, his voice cracking with panic. "I'll give you everything. I'll testify against her. I'll tell you how she set up the entire operation."
"We already have everything, Cody," Agent Vance said coldly. "We have the Cayman accounts. We have the ledger. We arrested Julian Croft forty minutes ago at O'Hare Airport as he was trying to board a private jet to Zurich. The judge in probate has already resigned and is cooperating with the grand jury."
Renfro slumped in his chair, the reality of his total destruction crashing over him. "She was going to kill me too, wasn't she?"
"The moment the money landed in the Kenosha account," Detective Vance said, leaning back. "Amanda had already arranged a second identity packet for herself in Montreal. There was no 'we', Cody. You were just a useful idiot who knew how to operate shell corporations."
Renfro stared down at the metal table, tears of humiliation and terror leaking from his eyes.
"She told me," Renfro whispered, "that humans are either architects or raw materials. She said David was raw material. She said the children were just leverage."
"And what are you, Cody?" Detective Vance asked softly.
May you like
Renfro didn't answer. He just buried his bruised face in his chained hands and began to weep.
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