Leo Driscoll bought a crashed 2012 sedan at a county auto auction for $850 to salvage its engine.
The true, horrifying depth of Julian’s malice was becoming clearer by the minute. My gaze drifted from the sedan to Toby, who was curled up in his blanket bed, finally sleeping soundly after weeks of fear and starvation.
I walked over to the dog. He stirred, his tail giving a soft thud against the concrete. I gently stroked his head.
“Toby,” I murmured. “Who was he, really?”
His microchip. It had been scanned when I first rescued him, showing an old registration. I had mentally filed it away, focusing on the human drama. Now, I needed to revisit it.
I pulled out my phone and accessed the animal registry database. Entering Toby’s chip ID, I waited for the information to load.
The results flashed on the screen. Primary owner: Marcus Brody. Address listed: Marcus’s old apartment.
A cold, heavy stone settled in my chest. Toby wasn’t just a stray dog Julian had stumbled upon. He was Marcus’s dog. His pet.
Julian hadn’t accidentally locked Toby in the trunk. He had done it intentionally.
He had trapped Marcus’s own dog in the trunk, next to his planted evidence, to slowly starve to death. A final, cruel, psychological torment directed at his brother before he vanished with Moretti’s money. A macabre final message.
The sheer depravity of it made my skin crawl. Julian wasn’t just a thief and a schemer. He was truly evil.
Toby whined softly, nudging my hand. I scratched behind his ears, a profound sense of protective fury rising within me. This dog, this innocent animal, was another victim of Julian Brody’s monstrous game.
The last pieces of the puzzle now clicked into place, forming a complete picture of betrayal and calculated cruelty. Julian stole two million from Moretti, framed Marcus for his “murder” and the theft, faked his death with a stolen corpse, and then, as a final, spiteful act, locked Marcus’s own dog in the trunk of the car he left for dead.
The thought made me clench my fists. Marcus was in grave danger, framed, hunted by the mob, and his beloved dog left to die.
The sun had barely cleared the horizon. The twelve-hour deadline for Judge Harrison’s subpoena was almost upon us.
“Maya,” I said, my voice low and determined. “We need to finish burning this drive. Now.”
She nodded, already moving with renewed purpose. The encrypted drive, containing Julian’s full text confession and the ledger card data, was our only weapon.
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