"Fine. I'll babysit until then."
"Shaw." Davis pauses. "This one's complicated. The Brotherhood connection, pattern of fires, substantial claims. She's going to dig deep."
"Let her dig. She won't find fraud because there isn't any."
"You're too close to this. Everyone knows you and Mike are tight. If she decides to push?—"
"Then she'll find out pushing the Brotherhood has consequences." I keep my voice level, but the warning is clear.
"That's exactly the kind of thing you can't say to an investigator."
"I'm saying it to you. Get me clearance for the scene."
The call ends, and I sit at my desk, staring at fire reports and trying to control the anger burning in my chest. Four fires, all of them connected through a brother—either owned by or associated with. And some corporate investigator who thinks we're criminals instead of victims.
My phone buzzes. Text from Cole:
Investigator's asking brothers about financials and who does our books. Want me to shut it down?
I type back.
Me: Keep it professional. Don't give her ammunition.
Cole: Hard when she's treating us like criminals.
Me: I'll handle it.
I grab my kutte and head back to the waiting area. Mira is standing, looking at photos on the wall—the Brotherhood at charity rides, toy drives, community events. The legitimate face we show the world.
"Impressive community involvement," she says without turning. "Makes it harder for people to believe you're criminals."
"We're not criminals."
"Four fires say otherwise."
"Four fires say someone's targeting us." I move closer, letting her feel the weight of my presence. "You keep pushing this fraud theory, you're wasting time while whoever's actually responsible plans their next move."
"Or I'm investigating exactly the right people." She turns to face me, and I'll give her credit—she doesn't back down. "You're a fire investigator investigating fires that benefit your own organization. That's textbook conflict of interest."
"It's textbook motivation. Someone burned down my brother's restaurant. You think I'm going to let that slide?"
"I think you might be very good at making fires look like something they're not."
The accusation lands like a physical blow. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I take a breath, forcing control back into place. Getting physical with an insurance investigator would only prove her point.
"You want to accuse me of something, say it directly."
"I'm not accusing. I'm investigating." But her eyes say tell a different story. She's already decided I'm guilty. "Tell me about Pete Garrett."
"Pete's a Marine. Served with several of us overseas. Runs a storage facility that burned three months ago."
"After increasing his insurance policy."
"After planning an expansion. Ask anyone in town—Pete's been talking about growing his business for over a year."
"Or it was preparation for fraud."
"Or someone knew he'd recently increased coverage and made him a target." I hold her gaze. "Think about it. Small business owner, financially stressed, suddenly has a fire that conveniently solves all his problems. That's not just opportunity for fraud—it's opportunity for a predator."
