Page 50 of Burned in Stone
“Absolutely. He moved her to Ailington. She fled from there. Millbrook is neutral. He’s got no network there. Neither does Summit. The judge shouldn’t have ties either way.” Josie sits back, satisfied. “And he’ll have to travel for every hearing, taking time off work. That’ll be an inconvenience for him. One I’m looking forward to causing.”
“That’s brilliant,” Mercy breathes.
I watch Mercy’s shoulders relax slightly, and I squeeze her hand again. Josie’s already working miracles, and we haven’t even gotten to the hard part yet.
“There’s more,” Josie says, pulling out what looks like financial records. “I’ve been doing some digging into Gabriel’s background. During your marriage, Mercy, did he ever discuss his finances with you?”
Mercy shakes her head. “Never. He controlled everything—the bank accounts, the credit cards, even the grocery money. I had an allowance.”
Josie’s expression darkens, but she keeps her voice professional. “Did you ever notice any unusual income or financial amounts? Say gifts from family? Or unexpected investment windfalls?”
“I don’t know,” Mercy admits. “He never told me anything about money except when he was lecturing me about spending too much.”
“Which you weren’t,” Josie says, not a question. She taps the documents in front of her. “According to these records, Gabriel’s been making deposits that don’t match his police salary. Significant deposits—ten, fifteen thousand at a time—into accounts you weren’t listed on.”
My jaw clenches. “Where’d the money come from?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.” Josie slides another document across the desk. “I’ve got a forensic accountant looking into it. If Gabriel’s taking bribes or engaging in any financial impropriety, we can use that as leverage.”
Mercy’s gone pale. “You think he’s dirty?”
“I think he’s a control freak with expensive tastes and a cop’s salary,” Josie says bluntly. “The math doesn’t add up. Either his family’s been bankrolling him—which is possible given his family’s wealth—or he’s got his hand in something he shouldn’t.”
I lean back in my chair, processing this. “Summit.”
“That’s my working theory,” Josie confirms. “Gabriel’s transferred to Stoneheart right as Summit’s ramping up their pressure on the town. He’s assigned to a task force specifically targeting the MC. And he’s got unexplained income.” She spreads her hands. “Connect the dots.”
“So he’s not just a controlling asshole,” Mercy says quietly. “He’s a corrupt controlling asshole.”
“Potentially,” Josie says. “But we need to be careful how we use this information. If we go public with accusations of corruption without solid proof, Gabriel can sue for defamation. And given his connections, he might win.”
“So what’s the play?” I ask.
Josie steeples her fingers. “We refile the divorce in Millbrook County, citing irreconcilable differences. We don’t mention the financial irregularities—yet. But we keep digging. If Gabriel fights the divorce, we’ll have ammunition to make things very uncomfortable for him.”
“So we squeeze him,” I say flat. “Blackmail.”
Josie’s smile doesn’t waver. “I prefer the term ‘strategic negotiation.’ But yes. If he wants to play dirty, we’ll be ready to draw blood.”
Mercy’s breathing has gone shallow beside me. I can feel her spiraling, so I squeeze her hand harder. “What are the risks?”
“For Mercy? Minimal, as long as she’s under MC protection.” Josie’s gaze shifts to Mercy. “Gabriel will try to intimidate you. He’ll use his badge, his connections, probably threaten you with psychiatric holds, all the usual tactics of an abuser with institutional power.”
“He already tried that,” Mercy says, her voice steadier than I expected. “At Devil’s Bar. He threatened to have me committed.”
“Which is why we need to document everything.” Josie pulls out a recording device. “I want you to tell me everything, Mercy. Every interaction with Gabriel since you left. Every threat, every phone call, every time he showed up uninvited. We need to build a pattern of harassment and stalking.”
We spend the next hour going through everything, documenting Gabriel’s controlling behavior. Josie takes notes, occasionally asking clarifying questions.
“This is good,” she says finally. “More than enough to show bad faith on his part. I’ll file the petition this afternoon.”
“How long will it take?” Mercy asks.
“Normally the process takes months. But I know a judge in Millbrook who specializes in domestic cases involving law enforcement. Judge Martinez. She doesn’t take kindly to cops who abuse their power in personal matters, so she’ll do what she can to rush it through—give him less time to retaliate.”
She leans forward. “Let me be clear. The second he makes a move, we’ll file for restraining orders and criminal charges. We will pressure him hard—provided nobody escalates on our side.” She eyes me, and I hold up my hands innocently.
“He’ll be cool,” Mercy promises, squeezing my knee.
