Page 85 of Vetted for Vengeance
“Yes. Obviously this guy has been hounding them for money and they finally had enough. And we need to tell the police before he decides to take a permanent holiday with them.”
“Noah…” he pulls away so I can see his eyes. They're blank.
Oh. He’s in that dangerous place, where he's blank on the outside but imagining death on the inside.
Or that's what I'm imagining, anyway.
“Oh, unless you think he was watching the brothers. On the night you…”
He nods slowly.
Like he’s already deciding what to do about it.
“Right. We'll skip the motive and go straight for him following them.”
Martha knocks gently on the door, presumably wondering if she can get back to work yet.
“Oh, we're going to need a cover for why we took so long, so I'm telling her I convinced you to keep Pumpkin under her desk.”
“You little rat.” Rhys tries grabbing me as I slip away to tell Martha the good news.
“But you love me for it,” I call over my shoulder.
We both freeze.
Because I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Chapter forty-one
Rhys
Ido what a man like me does best when threatened. I go on the offensive.
Locked in my consulting room with the blinds half drawn, I sit by my computer and switch it on. The usual happy vet program flicks to life across my screen, but I'm not in my veterinary persona. I take a small USB from my locked drawer and plug it in.
It's not anything exciting like a secret dark-web, but the files give me access to information that legal channels wouldn't. This is the place I use when I go hunting.
Frank and Derek Murray don't have the best security going, and with the police involved, I can only use the information I've already gained from my investigation.
One click of the mouse opens their saved bank records. Month after month of money in, money out.
The income is clearly puppy sales, the same £1200 sale per puppy I traced before I ever laid eyes on Noah.
I've already done the math. For twelve years, the brothers never failed to make a profit. Last year, they cleared £316,800 income from puppy sales. I estimated thirty grand in expenses, food, basic medical care, and the rest was split. F. Murray, D. Murray and Whittle Fund.
I didn't know about Noah then, because there was nothing for staff wages. I only cared about the brothers. It was never really about saving the dogs, just curing the itch beneath my skin that grew daily until I sated it.
But there are gaps in it.
Small at first. Easy to miss if you’re not looking for them.
Transactions that should exist… don’t.
I lean closer to the screen, narrowing my eyes.
Someone has already cleaned parts of this.
Not well enough.
