Chapter 7 - The Downtown Expediter
I walked briskly down the hallway and pulled the front door open, half expecting to see Rhonda standing there with another demand.
Instead, a young man in a cheap polyester suit stood on the welcome mat, holding a manila folder and looking nervously over his shoulder at the empty driveway. He had the unmistakable posture of a low-level courier who had been paid fifty bucks to drop off paperwork he didn't understand.
"Valerie Vance?" the courier asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Valerie Hayes," I corrected him coldly, keeping my hand resting on the interior doorknob. "And you're standing on private property without an invitation."
"Right, sorry—Ms. Hayes," he stammered, thrusting the manila folder forward. "I was told to hand this directly to you. It's a formal notice of dispute regarding the property title on Cactus Wren Drive, filed on behalf of Vanguard Heritage Holdings."
I didn't reach out to take the folder. I let it hover between us in the hot afternoon air.
"Who gave you this?" I asked.
"A guy at a legal services kiosk downtown. He said his name was Victor Cruz," the courier blurted out, clearly eager to wash his hands of the whole affair. "He paid me cash to drop it off and text him a photo of you holding it. That's all I know, I swear!"
I pulled out my own phone, switched on the camera, and snapped a clear, sharp picture of the courier’s face and the badge clipped to his breast pocket.
"Take your folder and get off my property," I instructed quietly. "And tell Victor Cruz that if he sends another courier to my house, the next picture I send will be straight to the county sheriff's financial crimes unit."
The young man didn't wait to be told twice. He turned on his heel, bolted down the driveway, and scrambled into an old hatchback parked down the street, tearing rubber as he sped away.
I picked up my phone and called Melissa back immediately.
"Victor Cruz," I told her the second she picked up. "The courier said a man named Victor Cruz handed him the paperwork downtown."
Melissa went dead silent for two seconds. Then I heard a sharp intake of breath.
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"Victor Cruz is a disbarred real estate attorney who used to be Julian Cross’s primary legal fixer," Melissa said, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp register. "If Cruz is operating out in the open here in Phoenix, it means Rhonda and Heath didn't just stumble into a bad marriage—they’ve tied themselves directly to an active, syndicated property fraud ring."
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