Page 21 of In the Shadows
By noon, she'd almost managed to stop thinking about Ronan Cross. Almost.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
Hendricks. First Street. 2 pm. Can you get away?
She stared at the message. He hadn't given her his number. She hadn't given him hers. But somehow, he had it anyway.
Of course he did. He was a federal agent. Getting phone numbers was probably the least impressive thing he could do.
She typed back.
Why Hendricks?
Your father's notes mentioned him. I want to see the office.
Her chest tightened.
Hendricks. The attorney who appeared on too many closing documents. The name that kept surfacing every time she pulled on a thread.
I can get away. Where do I meet you?
Corner of First and Main. We'll walk together. Less suspicious.
Less suspicious. Like she was a spy now, meeting contacts on street corners and conducting surveillance on local attorneys.
Two weeks ago, her biggest concern had been whether the centennial t-shirts would arrive on time. Now she was coordinating with a federal agent to investigate a man she'd known her entire life.
She texted back a simple confirmation, then deleted the entire conversation from her phone.
Old habits. Or new paranoia. She wasn't sure which.
The corner of First and Main was busy at two o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon. Tourists wandered past with shopping bags and ice cream cones. A group of teenagers clustered outside the soda shop, laughing at something on someone's phone. Two older women, Lila recognized from the historical society, stood in front of the antique store, examining a display of vintage china.
Normal. Everything looked perfectly normal.
Ronan appeared beside her without warning. She didn't see him approach—one moment she was alone, the next he was there, close enough that she could see the flecks of gray in his eyes.
"You need to work on your situational awareness."
"You need to work on not sneaking up on people."
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. "Fair point. This way."
They walked down First Street together, side by side but not too close. To anyone watching, they probably looked like colleagues. Maybe friends. Nothing worth noticing.
"Hendricks has been practicing real estate law in Blossom Springs for thirty-five years," Lila said quietly. "His father started the firm. His grandfather was one of the original town council members."
"I know. I also know he's handled seventy-three percent of coastal property transfers in the past decade."
She stumbled slightly. "Seventy-three percent? How is that even possible?"
"It's possible when you're the only attorney people trust with waterfront transactions." Ronan kept his gaze forward, scanning the street as they walked. "Or the only one they're allowed to use."
"Allowed by whom?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
They passed a clothing boutique, a gift shop, and an office that advertised notary services and tax preparation. Then Ronan stopped in front of a two-story building with a brass plaque beside the door. Hendricks & Associates. Est. 1962.
