Diem briefly glanced away from the road. “What did you take?”
“Old tax forms from pre-2019. They were in a box marked TO SHRED.” I couldn’t remember off the top of my head what year Lukyan purchased his first investment property, but I suspected this would prove he didn’t have the money to make it happen. I’ll need to compare numbers and data at the office tomorrow.
I spent ten or fifteen minutes skimming the forms, noting a staggering increase in Lukyan’s income from one year to the next. By the time I looked up to see why we hadn’t arrived at a destination, we were on the 410 heading toward Brampton.
I sat straighter. “D, is this a good idea?”
We originally planned to visit Lukyan’s property in Brampton to see if we could get our hands on those banker boxes, but that was before the storage unit fiasco.
“We need to figure out what the building is used for and learn who the fuck is living there.”
“I know, but… I assumed we were calling it a night. Shouldn’t we regroup? Make a new plan?”
“I put the fear of god in him tonight. He doesn’t know who I am, but if he thinks I’m connected to the police, he won’t be around come morning.”
Diem peered in the rearview mirror.
I glanced back as well. Darcy had drifted off to sleep, his temple pressed to the window. Echo’s head rested in his lap. She, too, was out cold.
“That asshole knows we broke into his unit,” Diem continued in a hushed tone. “He knows we’re connected to Darcy. Therefore, he knows we’re onto him and his grandparent scheme. If we don’t find proof fast, we’re going to lose him for good. He’s a multi-millionaire. He’s probably got a fucking jet somewhere that can get him out of the country on a moment’s notice. For all we know, he’s fueling up to leave right now. If we’re right about this, and if he’s caught, he will spend the rest of his life behind bars, and he knows it.”
So we were off to his purportedly abandoned property in Brampton that was supposed to be under construction. It was midnight before we arrived. The surrounding streets were quiet. The windows that had been lit earlier were dark. No sign of life within the fence. No sign of Lukyan.
Only one thing was different from earlier. The gate Lukyan had used, the one that had been locked, sat wide open.
Diem parked in a convenience store lot caddy corner, and we stared at the building. I waited for Diem to decide our approach.
“That gate was locked earlier,” I said, pointing.
“You mentioned there were people inside?”
“Yes, but I saw a dorm room. I suspect they sleep here. Maybe they leave at night.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know. Eight to ten. I might not have seen everyone. I didn’t have a good line of sight.”
“Okay. I’m going to knock.”
“You’re what?” My voice pitched higher and louder than I intended.
Diem glanced in the rearview mirror again and shushed me before gesturing that I should follow. We exited the Jeep quietly.
Echo lifted her head with questions in her eyes.
Diem reassured her we would be back in a minute and instructed her to stay with Darcy. As though understanding, she rested her head back in the kid’s lap with a chuff, but I swear to god she side-eyed me with her doggy intelligence as though blaming me for this nighttime adventure that had gone on long past her bedtime.
Diem marched to the temporary fence surrounding the building, head on a swivel as he scanned the area. He tugged the gate closed behind us, but without a latch, it swung wide again.
“What do you mean we’re going to knock?” I asked, following Diem to the main door.
Diem peeked in a nearby window, but it was dark inside, and he must not have been able to see anything. “I mean, I’m going to knock.” And with a fist—his left, I noticed—he pounded with the proficiency and assuredness of a determined cop.
It was an apartment complex. The main door led into what seemed to be a lobby, so when nobody answered, I figured it had more to do with no one hearing us. It was too dark to see far inside, even with my hands cupped over the glass.
Diem knocked a second time but must have come to the same conclusion. He moved to the window again, tried to see beyond, then asked, “Is this one of the dorms?”
“Kitchen. That one’s a dorm.” I pointed to the next in line.