Beneath the Silence: A Savannah Sleuthing Mystery (Savannah Sleuths Book 6) by Veronica Mixon

Author:Veronica Mixon [Mixon, Veronica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

DIGITAL FOOTPRINTS

Sometimes the trail to truth isn’t painted in oil or ink—it’s buried in inboxes, passwords, and the digital dust people think no one will ever see.

The next morning, Wren sat at her usual spot at my kitchen table, laptop open, the glow casting her face in soft blue light. The look she wore wasn’t guilt—it was triumph disguised as restraint. Clementine prowled beneath her chair, tail twitching, as if she too could sense something about to be revealed.

“Okay,” Wren said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ve gone through the board’s finances—at least as far as public records and leaked communications allowed.”

Margaret poured herself a cup of coffee. “Leaked?” she asked pointedly.

Wren didn’t flinch. “Well, leaked might not be the operative word—maybe…”

“Are you breaking any laws?” I gave her an eye.

“Let’s just say I’m doing nothing Homeland Security hasn’t done.”

I sighed. “That brings me no peace. And your father⁠—”

Wren waved me off. “Just email correspondence. I haven’t broken into any bank databases yet.”

I leaned against the counter, mug in hand. “Start with the easy part—who’s in good shape.”

“Richard and Evelyn Parker are solid,” Wren began. “Diversified assets—two rental properties, a family trust, and a tidy stock portfolio. No major debts, no defaults, no panic loans. Evelyn’s boutique turns a steady profit, and Richard plays it safe in the market.” She looked up and shrugged. “He even sent Evelyn a note saying their investment in Tesla seems to be working out.”

“On any given day, that’s likely to change.” I knew from Henry’s 401(k). “Tesla stock has the emotional stability of a soap opera—high one day, lower than low the next.”

I’d taken a cue from Henry’s playbook: buy, hold, forget. His optimism had turned a small investment into a tidy sum. After his death, I rolled it into an account for my grands—a little gift from their grandfather, proof that faith sometimes pays better than timing.

“In Richard and Evelyn’s case,” Wren said, swiping her screen and pulling me back to the present, “think blue chips and mutual funds, not crypto, Nvidia, or pipe dreams.”

“So they’re comfortable,” Margaret said.

“Comfortable,” Wren agreed. “Then we have the Harrisons — Lillian and Joel. They own half of Riverfront Realty. A few balloon payments coming due, but nothing catastrophic. And Chiara St. James—her husband’s shipping company just landed a new Port Authority contract. Flush as ever.”

She met my questioning gaze. “All this was mostly online—or sitting on unsecured servers with backdoors wide open.”

A zip ran up my spine, warning me where this report was headed. “And the Townsends?”

Wren hesitated just long enough to turn that zip into a rip. “That’s where things get murky.”

Graham grunted. “Murky how?”

“Howard Townsend is leveraged,” she said flatly. “Deeply. His surgical center—Savannah Neuro & Spine—took out two expansion loans right before COVID. Revenue dipped, staffing costs spiked, and now the banks are circling like seagulls at low tide. That’s straight from a letter to his banker. He also mentioned Lila’s investments in three outside ventures: MedFront Partners

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