Page 6 of In the Shadows
"His name was Biscuit. He belonged to the Methodist minister's wife." Lila's mouth curved. "He passed away two years ago. Natural causes. We held a moment of silence at the next town picnic."
Ronan found himself fighting a smile. "I'll make sure to include 'rogue canine' in my threat assessment."
"Please do. Mrs. Patterson has a new dog. Smaller, but with the same appetite."
He paged through the folder, scanning the documents with practiced efficiency. Event layouts. Crowd flow projections. Emergency evacuation routes that were optimistic at best. All standard stuff, the kind of planning that looked thorough until you started asking the right questions.
"Who handles security for your regular events?"
"Chief Fielding. Two officers. Sometimes they bring in county support for bigger things, but for the centennial, we wanted someone with more—" She searched for the word. "—expertise."
"How did my firm end up on the list?"
"Warren Caldwell recommended you. He and Harrison Montgomery are co-chairing the Centennial Committee." She must have seen something in his expression, because she added, "Harrison owns Montgomery Lighting - you've probably seen the trucks on the highway. His family has been here almost as long as the Caldwells. Anyway, Warren said he'd worked with your company before, some event in Charleston a few years back."
Harrison Montgomery. The name had not appeared in Ronan's briefing materials, but that didn't mean anything. Small towns ran on networks of influence, and the people who really mattered often stayed out of the official records.
"I remember the Charleston event." He did not. The cover story had been built by Caleb, complete with fake references and fabricated project histories. But the lie came easily. "Good to know he was satisfied with our work."
"He speaks very highly of you. Well, of your company. He didn't know you specifically." Lila was watching him with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why did you come early? You said you changed your schedule, but the centennial isn't for another three weeks. Most consultants would do the assessment closer to the event."
Smart question. She was paying attention, which meant he needed to pay attention to how he answered.
"I prefer to understand the environment before I assess the risks. In a small town like this, you can't just show up and start asking questions. People notice outsiders. They get defensive." He kept his voice casual, matter-of-fact. "Spending a couple extra weeks lets me blend in. See how things actually work, not just how they look on paper."
"That sounds reasonable."
"But?"
Her brow furrowed slightly. "I don't know. No, but I guess. It's just—most security people I've worked with are very in-and-out. Professional distance. You're the first one who's talked about blending in."
"Most security people are focused on the obvious threats. I'm more interested in the ones that hide in plain sight."
The words hung in the air between them. Lila's expression shifted— her hand paused on the papers. Just for a second—a hitch in the rhythm of someone who was always moving. Then she straightened, and the moment passed.
"Well." She straightened the papers on her desk, a nervous gesture that didn't match her controlled tone. "I'm sure you'll find Blossom Springs very boring on that front. We're not exactly a hotbed of hidden threats."
"Every place has secrets."
"Do they?"
"Usually.”
She looked at him the way she probably looked at budget discrepancies—like she intended to find the error, no matter how long it took.
"What about you, Ronan Cross? Do you have secrets?"
The question was light, teasing even. The kind of thing people said to fill the silence or to test the edges of a new acquaintance. But her eyes were sharp, and he had the sudden, uncomfortable sense that she was seeing more than he wanted her to see.
"Everyone has secrets," he said. "The question is whether they matter."
"And yours? Do they matter?"
He should deflect. Turn the conversation back to the centennial, to the security assessment, to anything that didn't involve her looking at him like she could peel back his cover story with sheer force of perception.
