Page 135 of Flint’s Strike

“Buildings that burned sometime after they were inspected and never got rebuilt.” I switch back to the report I was reviewing before Parker’s text came in.

“You took them off the list?” he asks.

I shake my head with a small huff. “You think you can inspect an empty lot and find anythin’? Go right ahead. I’ll check out the arson investigators’ reports on ‘em next week. Until we know which occupied buildings need to be vacated, these aren’t a priority.”

“Maybe they should be.”

For a long moment, I stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s more concerned with buildings that burned years ago than with the safety of thousands of people.

I’m about to ask him, when he shrugs and turns back to his laptop. “Just a suggestion. You know what you’re doin’, Eliot. Always have. Always will.”

Parker

The bullpen is almost empty, and the station settles into the quiet rhythm of the night shift. My back aches, and I still have to make two pecan pies before tomorrow’s barbecue at AJ and Grace’s house. And then there’s Eliot. He’s fixin’ to meet the people I love most in this world, and my brain has decided there are approximately ten thousand ways that could go wrong. Or right. Will they like him? Will he like them? Will he think they’re too much? Will he take one look at all of us together and wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into?

The only way to distract myself is more paperwork.

Nate’s been muttering for the past hour, which means he’s close to a breakthrough. Or a breakdown. It could go either way.

Thirteen years’ worth of annual reports. One fine for letting their LLC registration lapse for three days. The same names over and over and over again.

In the middle of the stack of papers from eight years ago, stuck to the back of yet another receipt for the filling fee, I find an addendum I missed the first time around.

“Well, hot damn.” I don’t realize I’ve said the words aloud until Nate’s typing stops. He’s staring at me, clearly waiting for an explanation.

“Lonestar spun up another LLC eight years ago. Redbud Capital Group.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “That name⁠—”

“Is all over your spreadsheet. I’d say we’ve got ourselves a pattern.”

Redbud owns eight of the buildings Eliot and his crew are inspecting. Five have already been served with an order to vacate.

“Every building Redbud owns on this list is deficient.” Nate reaches for the knot of his tie, pulls it loose, and tugs the dark green silk over his head. He rolled his sleeves up an hour ago, and there’s a red ink stain on his left pinky finger.

“You think Nesbitt will give me one more warrant?” I ask.

He huffs out a dry laugh. “With this evidence? Absolutely.”

“It’s late, and I’m wiped. You find anything?”

Nate perks up like he just slammed a Red Bull. “Rutherford Lane’s record was updated at eleven p.m. the night of the fire. Aldrich was faster. Probably because of the Castillos. That record changed before noon. No names, initials, or IP addresses. But, the system shows me who’s logged on. And with a little help from Zephyr, I wrote a program to capture screenshots every five minutes and send them to a secure file share. So, the next time someone issues an order to vacate one of the buildings on the spreadsheet, and the inspector of record gets changed, I’ll know every user who’s online.”

“That’s…brilliant. But please tell me you’re not gonna sit here all night and watch.”

Nate grins, leans back in his chair, and stretches. “Nope. I’ve got a date with my recliner and the Science Channel.”

Eliot

I take my usual chair next to Marlene, and pull the blanket from my bag. The pattern’s obvious now—stars and planets in colors bright enough to hurt my eyes. Yet, it’s growing on me.

“Everything okay, Eliot?” Marlene studies my progress with a small frown. “How many rows did you get this week? Six? Seven? That’s not like you.”

“And he looks tired,” Betty says. “Worse than I’ve ever seen.”

I haven’t managed a single stitch yet, and I’m about fed up. “If y’all are plannin’ on insultin’ me all night, I’m goin’ home.”

“Betty, you hush now.” Marlene pats my shoulder. “Eliot’s probably spendin’ all his time with his lady friend. What was her name again?”