Maverick touched Greenwood’s arm. “We shouldn’t be talking to him without his lawyer.”

Greenwood pushed her hand away. “This kid should know how much jail time his dad faces for his bullshit.”

Frodo took the bait. “My dad? What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Maverick said. “Greenwood, outside, now.”

Greenwood left the folder and images. “We’ll be right back.”

Seconds later, they joined Caitlin and the others at the monitors.

Greenwood smiled. “Anything?”

“Not yet,” the chief said.

Maverick took a seat. “Shouldn’t take long.”

Frodo shifted in his chair, rolled his neck. Caitlin watched the timecode on the monitor. The wait felt like minutes, but only thirty-two seconds passed before he leaned forward. He pushed the images aside to look at the documents below. Caitlin had chosen the order:

1.  The title to the farm and the Bro-duce corporation’s financial structure docs

2.  A listing of payments made by both Nate and Adam Fodor to their parents

3.  A summary of Florida’s drug-related property seizure statutes

4.  A spreadsheet that correlated the earlier payments to the Fodor parents’ accounts and the mortgage payments received on the Fort Lauderdale retirement property

Caitlin could see Frodo’s hands start to tremble.

“Oh no,” he said, the words barely audible through the monitor.

The entire room broke into applause.

Maverick got up. “Let’s go get him.”

Greenwood gave Caitlin the quickest of smiles on his way out. Seconds later, he reappeared in the interrogation room and reached for the folder. “My partner was right. We can pick this up tomorrow when your public defender shows up.”

“Wait, let’s make a deal.”

Maverick stood in the open doorway. “Why? Your name’s on the farm and the bank accounts. You were found with enough coca leaves to manufacture a kilo of coke. You transported those ingredients across state lines. Your brother, across international waters. In addition, people have been making cash deposits into the grill in your backyard right after huge deliveries of pot to local frats, often in trucks driven by you. Exactly what kind of deal do you think we need to make?”

Greenwood closed the folder. “Back to your cage.”

“But I know things you don’t.”

Maverick laughed. “We know everything about your bullshit drug empire, Frodo.”

“I know about Angela Chapman.”

Chills ran up Caitlin’s spine.

Greenwood shook his head. “You’d say anything now.”

“Seriously,” Frodo said, “but I need to know you’ll leave my parents out of this.”

Maverick laughed again. “Kid, this thing crossed state lines. You’re organized crime. Your parents too.”

Frodo’s voice kicked up a register. “I’m serious. They had me bury something.”

“Bury what?”

“The morning after everyone went out, you know, the night Angela disappeared—they called me on one of the burners, said to get to their apartment, get rid of some garbage.”