Chapter 6 - THE ENVELOPE
I stared at the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills in my hand, my mind completely blanking.
This wasn't just lunch money. This was thousands of dollars.
"Mr. Collins," I called out, my voice trembling.
The principal and the police officer turned toward me. I held up the manila envelope and the plastic lunch tray.
"I found this taped to the bottom of one of the trays Rosie was hoarding," I explained, handing it to the officer.
The officer pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, took the envelope, and counted the cash. "Five thousand dollars," he announced grimly.
Answer One. The scheme wasn't just about feeding dogs. The food hoarding was a cover, a logistical network designed to move massive amounts of illicit cash through the school without drawing attention.
Open Two. But whose money was it? Greg Hargrove ran an auto body shop and a dog-breeding farm. Where did he get five thousand dollars to tape to a child's lunch tray? And who was supposed to receive it?
Mr. Collins looked like he was going to be sick. "Are you telling me my school is being used for money laundering?"
"It looks that way, sir," the officer replied, bagging the envelope as evidence. "We need to search the rest of these containers."
The officer and Mr. Collins began carefully examining the dozens of sealed lunch trays scattered across the clinic floor. Within minutes, they found three more envelopes taped to the bottoms of the plastic containers.
Fifteen thousand dollars in total.
I looked at Mateo, who was staring at the money with wide, terrified eyes.
"Mateo," I said gently, kneeling next to him. "Did you know about the money?"
He shook his head frantically. "No! I swear! Greg just told me the lunches were for the dogs. He said if Rosie didn't bring the heavy bag to his truck after school every Friday, he would call immigration. I never looked inside the trays."
"They used her," I whispered, the sheer evil of it settling over me. "They used an eight-year-old girl as a cash courier because no one searches a child's lunch bag."
"Where is the money coming from?" Mr. Collins asked the officer.
"We'll have to investigate," the officer said. "But given that Mr. Hargrove runs an auto body shop, it's highly likely he's involved in stripping stolen cars or selling parts. He needed a way to clean the cash."
And his wife, the trusted elementary school teacher, provided the perfect pipeline.
"Mommy?" Emily whispered, tugging on my sleeve.
"What is it, sweetie?" I asked, pulling her close.
"Mrs. Hargrove didn't just make Rosie keep the trays," Emily said softly. "She made the other kids do it, too. The ones who don't speak English."
My blood ran cold. There were four other girls.
"Mr. Collins," I said urgently. "Emily told us earlier there were four other girls who weren't getting lunch. If Rosie was a courier, they might be, too."
The principal's eyes widened. "Officer, we need to locate those students immediately."
The officer nodded. "I'll call for backup. We need to secure the building."
Before Mr. Collins could pull up the student roster, the clinic door opened again.
It was Mrs. Hargrove.
She wasn't accompanied by the secretary. She had slipped past them. She looked disheveled, her makeup smeared, but her eyes held a frantic, dangerous glint.
She saw the police officer, the bagged cash, and her husband nowhere in sight.
Reversal.
Instead of panicking or trying to run, Mrs. Hargrove let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"You think you've figured it all out, don't you?" she sneered, looking directly at me.
"We know about the money," the officer stated, taking a step toward her. "You're under arrest, Mrs. Hargrove."
"Am I?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Because if you arrest me, you'll never find the other four girls."
The room went dead silent.
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"What do you mean, 'find' them?" Mr. Collins demanded. "They're in their classrooms."
"Are they?" Mrs. Hargrove smiled, a chilling, hollow expression. "Check your attendance system, Mr. Collins. I marked them absent after lunch. Greg picked them up at the side door twenty minutes ago. They're in his van."
