"16 people," he said.
Voice flat. Controlled.
"16 vulnerable adults with disabilities. Gone. No records. No oversight. Just gone."
"We don't know they're gone," Rivera said carefully. "We just know the records are incomplete."
Luther turned around.
"Yeah," he said. "We do."
He looked at Rivera.
"Aldridge didn't just steal housing slots. He disappeared people who were inconvenient to the development process. People who couldn't advocate for themselves. People whose families had just been displaced and didn't have the stability to fight back."
"That's a serious allegation," Rivera said.
"So prove me wrong," Luther said. "Pull every file from Facility 7. Track down every person who was listed as transferred to Independent Living. Find them. Interview them. And when you can't find most of them, tell me I'm wrong."
Rivera looked at the ledger again.
"If you're right," she said slowly, "this isn't housing fraud. This is human trafficking. Exploitation of vulnerable adults. Conspiracy across multiple agencies."
"And if I'm right," Luther said, "my brother is one of 16 people who've been missing for 15 years while a county commissioner collected payments and closed files."
Nobody spoke.
Then War Chief's voice, low and steady.
"What do you need?"
Luther looked at him.
"I need a list of every family displaced between 2007 and now. I need interviews with anyone who remembers Facility 7. I need the name of the social worker who resigned. And I need to know who else was involved in closing those files."
"We can get that," War Chief said.
Luther looked at Rivera.
"How long until you can move officially?"
"48 hours. Maybe less if the evidence holds up."
"Make it less," Luther said. "Because if there are people still being exploited through this system, every hour we wait is another hour they're in danger."
Rivera nodded once, closed the folder.
"I'll be in touch."
She left.
The brothers sat in silence.
Then Rimshot spoke.
"There's more."
Everyone looked at him.
He turned his laptop around.
On screen, a wire transfer record dated 3 days ago.
Origin, Ridge Development Partners LLC.
Destination, Aldridge Consulting.
Amount, $89,200.
Reference, final corridor acquisition, Ironbark Hollow.
"Ironbark Hollow," Sandstone said.
"That's where Emmett lived," Luther finished. "2318 Ironbark Hollow. The address he gave when he first woke up."
Specter leaned forward.
"He paid $89,000 to clear Emmett's family out 3 weeks ago."
"And he's been doing it for 15 years," Diesel added.
Luther looked at the screen for a long time.
Then he said, very quietly, "47 families, 16 missing people, $1.2 million, and for 15 years a system designed to catch exactly this evil looked the other way."
He stood.
Walked to where Emmett was sleeping.
The boy's face was peaceful.
The frostbite hand still wrapped, resting on his chest.
Luther watched him for a moment.
Then he walked back to the table.
"We find them all," he said. "Every family. Every missing person. Every piece of evidence. And we make sure that when this case goes to trial, there's no deal, no plea, no administrative correction that makes this go away."
"How?" Sandstone asked.