Chapter 5 - THE MEETING
The clubhouse was full before Vera arrived. Residents who had spent years paying fines sat shoulder to shoulder. Margaret Hales brought a rolling case of documents. Vera opened: “This association will not be intimidated by outside agencies.” Margaret stood. “No.” Then she placed copied ledgers on the table. “You’re going to be intimidated by accounting.” People laughed. Then testimony. Wheelchair-ramp fines. Service-dog fines. Landscaping fines. Visitor fines. Threats. Peter Sloan stood and said: “The bullet in my fence was Bryce.” Vera answered: “Police disagreed.” Cole stood near the back with a state investigator. “My report was wrong.” The room went silent. Then: “I changed it under pressure.” That admission mattered. Margaret produced invoices. SLOAN RISK CONSULTING — $80,000. No deliverable. RASCIN COMMUNITY SERVICES — $120,000. No documented work. Then Bryce walked in. Bruised face. Dark jacket. He stared at me. Then Ella, sitting beside my sister with her blue walker.
I stood. He laughed. “Relax.” A state investigator moved toward him. “Mr. Rascin, you need to leave.” Bryce snapped: “My mother didn’t steal anything.” Nobody had asked. Then: “Raymond handled the money.” The entire room froze. Vera turned. “Bryce.” Too late. Investigators heard. The sentence accelerated subpoenas. Bank records showed Sloan Risk Consulting transferred HOA money into Lakefront Civic Strategies, a company owned by Raymond’s brother-in-law. That company funded land options around the commercial corridor. Then a transfer: $75,000 to Vera. Another: $42,000 to Bryce. Then $30,000 cash withdrawn the day after Hannah’s crash. Ugly. Still not murder proof. The independent crash review found no evidence Raymond’s SUV struck Hannah’s car. No brake tampering. No toxicology problem. The punctured tire remained uncertain. But Hannah’s cloud account revealed more. A voice memo recorded while driving. “I think Raymond is behind me again.”
Then: “If he follows me onto 138, I’m calling Thorne.” The recording stopped. She never called. Raymond claimed he only wanted to convince her to delete copied evidence. That admission created obstruction exposure. Then the prosecutor told me: “We may never prove homicide.” I hated it. Then: “We can prove fraud, coercion, obstruction, intimidation, and perhaps reckless conduct connected to the pursuit.” Not enough emotionally. Maybe enough legally. That night Ella asked: “Daddy, bad man gone?” “Which one?” She thought. “All?” I almost laughed. “Not yet.” And that was truth.
