Ryder
The shell company's paper trail had gone cold twice already, buried under layers of registered agents and holding companies clearly designed by someone who understood exactly how to make a money trail disappear. But I'd learned a long time ago, back before motorcycles and security details, that cold trails usually just meant you hadn't found the right thread to pull yet.
I found it three days after the fever crisis, once things had settled enough at the house that I could give this the focused hours it actually required. A payment record, small enough that whoever set up the shell company's accounting probably assumed it wouldn't draw scrutiny, routed through a private account that traced back, eventually, after four separate calls to a contact who owed me a favor from years ago, t
