Page 76 of The Hitman’s Final Job

Silas laughs again, and I think about a twenty-two-year-old man who spent five years working and studying in libraries to get himself to college and an eighteen-year-old boy who decided that man needed a friend and didn’t give him a choice about it.

My son.

I want tonight to be a fun night, so I change the conversation to the topic of the festival and ask Silas how his stint at the baked goods stand went earlier. He tells me about the struggle to stop himself from eating everything, but he loved all the nice people he met.

After dinner, we head to the Ridgeline. We’ve barely made it past the door when Chris appears.

“Silas,” he says with his usual level of energy. “We need to talk about the competition.”

“What’s up?”

Chris leans in. “Three of today’s entries have been disqualified,” he says, his voice slightly lowered.

“Why?” I ask.

“The judging panel discovered that two of the entries had been … artificially enhanced.”

“What?”

“Structurally modified,” Chris says. “Someone had used a mold during the growing process. To achieve the specific shape.”

“I take it that’s not allowed,” Silas says.

Chris shakes his head.

“But isn’t the competition a new addition? How would they know?”

He shrugs, like that’s an irrelevant point.

“They cheated. The Knot Today panel was not pleased. Margaret—she’s the one with the clipboard—said, and I’m quoting directly, ‘I have seen enough of the real thing in my eighty-three years to know the difference between genuine and constructed, and I will not have my professional judgment insulted.’”

Silas and I share a look, and it’s clear we’re both struggling to keep it together, but Chris is on a roll.

“Anyway,” he says, clapping Silas on the shoulder. “May the best vegetable win. Sir Squash-a-nova is a genuine contender.” He heads back to where Hux is waiting for him with a drink in each hand.

We make our way to the bar. “What do you want to drink?” I ask Silas.

“Soda is good. I definitely don’t want to drink alcohol tonight. This vacation is one long, indulgent feast, and I’m not sure my body is built for it.”

I catch Dante’s eye, hold up two fingers, and point to the soda, and he nods and starts pouring.

“I think your body is perfectly fine.”

“Ditto, Mr. Reeves. Or is it Dr. Reeves? Oohh, doctor. Please tell me you’re a doctor. We could have so much fun role-playing that.”

I shake my head and hand him the soda Dante places on the bar. I am definitely not entertaining that conversation in a venue filled with Pine Ridge inhabitants.

From where we’re standing, I can see Tess and Clayton at a table near the window, Kai and Atlas on the other side of the bar, Chris holding court near the display room entrance, and the Knot Today folks visible through the open door, already positioned for the evening’s judging.

I check every face in sight for the mysterious man from last night, but he’s not among them. I don’t know if that’s reassuring.

Silas moves off to chat with Tess, and Dale is on his way over, so I stay where I am. He’s out of uniform tonight.

“Still working on what you brought me,” he says quietly. “The attorney inquiry is moving slowly. They’re not cooperative, which in itself is telling. But I want you to know that my guys are keeping an eye on things. On you and your guest.” He glances toward Silas. “You’re not as alone in this as it might feel.”

“Thank you, Dale.”

He nods and moves back to where his wife has joined the conversation with Tess and Silas.