Chapter 5: Digging for Ghosts

Leo's apartment had been transformed overnight. What had once been a study in deliberate anonymity now resembled a military intelligence hub. Three laptops hummed on his dining table, their screens displaying cascading data streams. Printouts covered every available surface—financial records, property deeds, business registrations, and interconnected relationship maps that painted a picture of corruption spanning decades.

"Jesus Christ," Ben whispered, staring at the wall where Leo had pinned photographs and documents connected by red string. "How long have you been working on this?"

"Since 4 AM." Leo didn't look up from his keyboard, fingers flying across keys with practiced precision. "Coffee's fresh if you want some."

Marco and Chloe arrived within minutes of each other, both looking like they'd aged years in the past twenty-four hours. Marco's business was still crawling with inspectors, while Chloe faced a formal disciplinary hearing that afternoon.

"Holy shit," Marco breathed, taking in the organized chaos. "Leo, what is all this?"

"The Vance family's complete financial ecosystem." Leo finally looked up, his eyes bloodshot but intensely focused. "Every business deal, every property acquisition, every political donation, every contractor they've used in the past fifteen years."

Ben moved closer to one of the laptops. "Where did you get all this information?"

"Public records, mostly. Corporate filings, property transfers, court documents. Amazing what you can piece together when you know how to look." Leo gestured to a thick stack of papers. "Marcus Vance has been very busy building his empire."

Chloe picked up a financial statement, frowning at the numbers. "I don't understand half of this. What exactly are we looking at?"

Leo stood and moved to his makeshift evidence wall. "We're looking at a pattern. Marcus Vance doesn't just buy properties—he creates circumstances that force people to sell at below-market prices. Then he flips them for massive profits or develops them into luxury housing."

"That's just business," Marco said. "Cutthroat, maybe, but not illegal."

"Not by itself, no." Leo pointed to a cluster of documents. "But look at the timeline. Six months before Vance acquires a property, the current owners start having problems. Building code violations that were overlooked for years suddenly become urgent safety hazards. Environmental issues that never existed before appear in official reports. Small businesses get hit with regulatory nightmares that force them into bankruptcy."

Ben was following the connections, his programmer's mind parsing the data patterns. "You're saying he manufactures the circumstances that force people to sell?"

"I'm saying the same playbook being used against us has been used dozens of times before." Leo pulled down a photograph of a familiar-looking building. "Remember Peterson's Auto Shop on Fifth Street? Closed down three years ago after the EPA found 'hazardous waste violations'?"

"Sure," Chloe said. "Mr. Peterson was devastated. He'd run that shop for thirty years."

"Marcus Vance bought the property six months later for sixty percent of its assessed value. It's now a luxury condo development called Vance Vista." Leo traced his finger along a timeline. "Same pattern with Rodriguez Family Market, Thompson's Hardware, even the old Methodist church on Elm Street."

Marco's face was growing darker by the second. "You're telling me they've been destroying local businesses systematically?"

"For profit and control." Leo pulled up another document on his laptop. "But here's where it gets interesting. Look at the regulatory complaints that triggered each business closure."

The screen showed a spreadsheet with complaint numbers, dates, and filing information. Ben leaned in, his eyes widening as he recognized the pattern.

"They're all filed by the same handful of people," Ben said. "Anonymous complainants using different names but sharing the same IP addresses, same email domains, even the same grammatical patterns in their written complaints."

"Bingo." Leo highlighted several entries. "The Vances have a network of fake identities they use to file complaints through official channels. They've weaponized the regulatory system to eliminate competition and acquire properties at fire-sale prices."

Chloe sank into a chair, the implications hitting her. "My God. How many families have they destroyed?"

"Forty-three documented cases over the past decade." Leo's voice was flat, emotionless. "Hundreds of jobs lost, dozens of families forced to relocate, an entire community's economic foundation systematically dismantled."

Marco was pacing now, his hands clenched into fists. "This is bigger than revenge. This is about the whole fucking town."

"Gets better," Leo said grimly. "Or worse, depending on your perspective." He pulled up a new document. "Marcus Vance sits on the zoning board, the planning commission, and the economic development council. He has influence over every regulatory agency that's been targeting his victims."

"That's a conflict of interest," Chloe said.

"Only if someone calls attention to it. And who's going to do that? The local newspaper that depends on Vance Properties for advertising revenue? The city council that gets campaign contributions from Marcus Vance's PACs?"

Ben was studying the financial records with growing amazement. "Leo, these numbers... if this is accurate, the Vance family has made over forty million dollars from this scheme."

"Forty-three point seven million, to be precise." Leo's expression had gone cold and calculating. "All of it perfectly legal on the surface, because they've corrupted the system that's supposed to prevent exactly this kind of abuse."

The room fell silent as the full scope of the Vance family's operations sank in. This wasn't just about a stolen eight ball or even personal revenge anymore. They'd uncovered a conspiracy that had been bleeding their community dry for years.

"So what do we do with this?" Chloe asked finally.

Leo was quiet for a long moment, staring at the evidence wall he'd constructed. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of decisions made in darker places.

"We could take it to the authorities. File complaints with the state attorney general, contact the FBI's white-collar crime division, maybe get some federal investigator interested in the pattern."

"But?" Marco prompted.

"But that takes time. Months, maybe years. And while we're waiting for justice to work through proper channels, they'll destroy us completely. Marco's business will be shuttered, Chloe will lose her job, Ben will be blacklisted from financial services."

"So we're back to playing defense," Ben said bitterly.

Leo turned away from the evidence wall, his expression shifting into something that made his friends take an unconscious step back. There was something different in his eyes now—colder, more dangerous.

"No," Leo said quietly. "We're done playing defense."

He moved to his laptop and opened a new window, displaying what looked like building schematics and security layouts.

"What is that?" Chloe asked.

"Marcus Vance's private office in the Vance Properties building. Top floor, corner suite, private elevator access." Leo's fingers moved across the keyboard, pulling up additional files. "His personal safe is behind that painting of the town's founding fathers. Sentimental touch for a man who's systematically destroyed everything those founders built."

Marco stared at the screen. "How do you know about his safe?"

"Because I know what to look for. Security systems, access points, patrol schedules, blind spots in surveillance coverage." Leo glanced up at his friends. "Old habits."

"Leo," Chloe's voice was careful, cautious. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that sometimes justice requires evidence that won't be voluntarily surrendered through legal channels. Evidence that might be stored in private safes, personal computers, or locked filing cabinets."

The implication hung in the air like a live wire. Ben was the first to speak.

"You're talking about breaking and entering."

"I'm talking about recovering evidence of crimes that have destroyed dozens of families." Leo's voice carried no emotion, but his eyes burned with cold fire. "Evidence that could put Marcus and Rex Vance in federal prison for the rest of their lives."

Marco leaned forward. "What kind of evidence?"

Leo pulled up another set of documents—bank records, transaction logs, communication intercepts. "Financial records showing the coordination between fake complaints and property acquisitions. Communication logs proving the conspiracy between Marcus Vance and corrupt officials. Evidence of bribery, fraud, racketeering, and conspiracy charges that would bring down the entire operation."

"And you know this evidence exists?"

"I know how men like Marcus Vance think. They keep records of everything because they can't resist documenting their own cleverness. The same arrogance that made Rex steal that eight ball makes his father keep detailed records of every crime he's committed."

Chloe was shaking her head. "This is insane. We're not criminals, Leo. We're librarians and contractors and IT specialists."

Leo looked at her for a long moment, seeing the fear in her eyes but also the anger—anger at years of watching her community slowly strangled by the Vance family's greed.

"You're also victims," he said softly. "Along with forty-three other families who trusted the system to protect them. How did that work out?"

He moved to a filing cabinet and withdrew a thick folder, setting it on the table in front of them.

"Personnel files from the last military unit I served with," Leo said. "Including my service record, commendations, and specialty training certifications."

Ben opened the folder, his eyes widening as he read. "Strategic intelligence operations. Surveillance and reconnaissance. Advanced tactical planning." He looked up at Leo. "You weren't just military intelligence. You were special operations."

"I was part of a unit that handled problems other units couldn't solve through conventional means," Leo said. "Problems that required precision, planning, and the ability to operate outside normal parameters."

Marco was studying a commendation letter. "It says here you led a team that recovered intelligence from a heavily fortified compound in Afghanistan. Intelligence that prevented a terrorist attack on American soil."

"Different mission, same principles," Leo said. "Identify the target, plan the approach, execute with precision, extract with evidence intact."

Chloe's voice was barely a whisper. "You're serious about this."

Leo met her eyes. "Dead serious. The Vance family has been at war with this community for years. The only difference is that now we're finally shooting back."

He gestured to his evidence wall, to the documented proof of years of systematic corruption and community destruction.

"This isn't about revenge anymore," Leo said. "It's about survival. Our survival, and the survival of everyone in this town who can't fight back against forty million dollars and a corrupted system."

The four friends sat in silence, staring at the overwhelming evidence of crimes that had been hidden in plain sight for years. Outside, the October wind rattled the windows, and somewhere across town, Marcus Vance was probably planning their next move in a war they'd started by refusing to stay victims.

"If we do this," Chloe said finally, "there's no going back."

Leo nodded. "No going back. But there's also no going forward if we let them destroy us."

Ben closed the personnel file, his decision made. "When do we start?"

Leo smiled—a cold, predatory expression that his friends had never seen before.

"Tonight."