Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

The money my father had left for us, the security we had counted on to raise Owen.

Logan had spent it on bribe money and bad land.

“How could they do this?” I whispered, looking out at the dark trees passing by. “How could a mother and father do this to their own son?”

“Walter doesn’t see people,” Jake said, his voice flat. “He sees assets.”

“And Logan?” I asked.

“Logan is just a tool Walter uses to get what he wants,” Jake said. “But Logan has his own debts now. He’s desperate.”

“The federal investigation is going to ruin them,” Reyes said from the front seat.

“They know that,” Jake said. “That’s why they’re trying to destroy my credibility before the files can be presented to a grand jury.”

Reyes slowed the vehicle as we reached a narrow, snow-covered driveway marked by a rusted mailbox.

He turned the SUV down the path, the tires crunching through the undisturbed snow.

At the end of the driveway sat a small, one-story log cabin with a steep metal roof.