MIRA
Days of convincing myself I made the right choice.
Days working the investigation alone—reviewing vendor records, building financial profiles, interviewing business owners without Shaw as backup. Professional focus. Clean boundaries. Exactly what I needed.
Except it doesn't feel right.
Every interview where I could use Shaw's insight into Brotherhood connections. Every financial pattern that would make sense if I could ask him about club business structures. Every moment I work alone when I should be working with a partner who sees what I miss.
I'm not protecting myself by avoiding him. I'm sabotaging the investigation and my own progress.
The realization hits hardest at the last fire scene where we both showed up and barely spoke. Where Shaw told me maybe I'm not ready, where I watched him turn back to his evidence collection with the kind of controlled distance that felt worse than anger. Where I stood there like a coward and let him walk away because I didn't know how to tell him he was right—I am running, and I don't know how to stop.
That's what I tell myself when I finally answer one of his texts.
Shaw: We need to coordinate on the vendor analysis. Coffee tomorrow?
Me: Okay. Where?
Shaw: Ironside Bar. 10 AM. Come hungry.
Simple. Professional. Exactly zero acknowledgment of the personal shit hanging between us.
Maybe that's better. Keep it about the case, figure out who's setting fires, solve the problem without additional complications.
The morning drive to Ironside gives me too much time to second-guess myself. By the time I pull into the parking lot, my palms are sweating against the steering wheel. I force myself to breathe—in for four counts, out for four counts—before I step out of the car.
I arrive at Ironside at exactly 10 AM.
Shaw's already there, sitting in a back booth with files spread across the table and two cups of coffee steaming beside stacks of vendor contracts. Shadows under his eyes that weren't there a week ago. Tension in his shoulders that suggests he hasn't been sleeping well.
Guilt twists in my chest. I did that. My avoidance, my silence, my inability to process one difficult conversation without disappearing for a week.
"Morning." I slide into the booth across from him.
"Morning." He pushes one of the coffee cups toward me. "Black, two sugars. The way you take it."
He remembers. Warmth spreads through my chest.
"Thank you."
"We've got a problem." Straight to business, pointing at spreadsheets covered in highlighted sections. "I've been tracking vendor proposals across all Brotherhood-connected businesses for the past two years. The pattern's bigger than we thought."
I lean forward, studying the data. Dozens of businesses. Hundreds of vendor approaches. Same three companies appearing repeatedly in rejected proposals.
"Hartley Industrial, Cascade Services, Coastal Investment Partners." I trace the pattern with my finger. "But we already knew they were suspects."
"We knew they bid on the businesses that burned. We didn't know they've been approaching every Brotherhood business systematically for the past eighteen months." Shaw pulls out another document. "This isn't random targeting. This is a coordinated campaign."
"To do what? Force partnerships?"
"Or punish rejections." He spreads out more files. "Look at the timeline. The first fire happened three months after these companies started getting rejected consistently. Each subsequent fire followed a rejection by two to six weeks."
Direct correlation between rejected proposals and arsons. "So they're retaliating. Burning businesses that won't work with them."
"Or setting up a protection racket. Accept our partnership or your business might have an unfortunate accident."
I pull the files closer, cross-referencing dates and businesses. Shaw's right. "We need to present this to law enforcement. This proves motive and opportunity."
