Page 46 of In the Shadows
"An offer?"
"Join us or suffer the consequences. It's how operations like this maintain control. They recruit the people who ask too many questions, turn them into assets instead of problems."
"Warren's council seat offer."
Ronan nodded slowly. "That's what I was thinking."
The rage in her chest shifted, sharpened. Warren Caldwell. The man who'd spoken at her father's funeral and called him a pillar of the community, a man of integrity.
"My father would never have?—"
"No." Ronan's voice was gentle. "He wouldn't have. That's probably why he's dead."
The words hung in the air between them. She'd known. Somewhere deep down, she'd known for years. But hearing it said out loud, spoken as fact rather than suspicion, made it real in a way it hadn't been before.
"I need to call Delia," she said. "Tell her I'll be late."
"Lila."
"I know. I know I can't tell her anything. I just—" She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I need one minute where I'm not thinking about this."
He stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the solid presence that had somehow become the only thing keeping her anchored.
"Take the minute. Then we get to work."
Before she could respond, he'd already pulled out his phone. He typed a message to Caleb — her address, the building address, and three words: passive eyes today. Then he pocketed it. She looked at him. "What was that?"
"Making sure you're not alone today. Even when I'm not here."
The morning passed in a blur of official statements and unofficial documentation.
Chief Fielding arrived at eight-thirty, his face arranged in an expression of professional concern that didn't quite reach his eyes. He took Lila's statement, nodded in all the right places, and promised to investigate thoroughly. She watched him move through her ransacked office, touching nothing, photographing nothing, and knew that whatever report he filed would disappear into the same void as every other complaint she'd ever made.
By ten o'clock, the power was restored, and the building was officially open for business. Lila sat at her desk, surrounded by the remnants of her carefully organized life, and pretended to work.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Delia.
Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?
I'm fine. Just paperwork. Centennial stuff mostly.
Liar. I'm bringing you lunch. No arguments.
She set the phone down and rubbed her temples. Lying to Delia felt worse every time she did it. But what was the alternative? Tell her best friend that the town they'd grown up in was controlled by a criminal syndicate? That the men they'd trusted their whole lives might be complicit in her father's death?
Her phone buzzed. Ronan.
Caleb got the hotel footage. One vehicle in the parking lot at 3 a.m. No plates. Driver wore a cap and kept his face down. Professional.
Dead end?
Not quite. Vehicle matches one registered to a company called Coastal Property Services. Guess who sits on their board.
She didn't need to guess.
Warren Caldwell.
Yep. We're getting closer, Lila. They're making mistakes.
