“I am.”
“I’ve been inside the Duvalls’ backend all night,” Wells says. “Three separate systems. Different shells. Same underlying structure.”
I ease into the next lane as traffic thickens, the city widening ahead of me. The wheel stays steady under my hands, even as something tightens behind my ribs.
“And?” I say.
“There isn’t a straight line,” he says. “There aren’t any direct messages or directives. Nothing you can point to and say this is the order. But it’s pretty damn clear they set everything up to get control of those routes. And the only man standing in their way had to go.”
I run all of this through my mind. Vin suggested as much, but now we have proof they had motive.
“They wanted entry to the Gulf routes Dad controlled,” he says. “They asked for it. He shut it down.”
I keep my eyes on the road.
“He didn’t just refuse,” Wells continues. “He made it clear they weren’t going to use them at all. Not directly. Not through partners. Not quietly.”
“And that didn’t sit well,” I say.
“And they didn’t stop there. Off-hour movements, small volume. Enough to test using them without drawing his attention. They never scaled it, because they couldn’t. He would’ve caught it.”
Traffic thickens. I ease into the flow without thinking.
“What changed?” I ask.
“Dad died,” Wells says. “And now those same routes are running at full capacity. They don’t have to hide it, now.”
That settles cleanly in my chest.
“So his death made use of that lane possible,” I say.
“Yes,” Wells says. “In practice, he was the only thing standing in their way. And he’s banking on the chaos of his death and no clear leadership to mean no one will stop him.”
“That’s motive,” I say.
“It’s motive,” Wells agrees. “It’s not proof they ordered the hit. But it’s a reason to want him gone, and a reason they benefit now that he is.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel, then let it ease again.
“Send me what you have so I can look at it in black and white,” I say.
“You already have it,” Wells says. “Before and after. Side by side.”
“Thank you, Wells. This is good work.”
“You bet. Now I’ve got to get some sleep.”
The line goes quiet.
I drive another block before I let myself breathe out fully. Her street is already gone behind me, folded back into the city like it never mattered.
Footsteps approach the booth.Vin slides into the seat across from me without asking, settling in like the space was always meant for him.
He’s been beside my family my entire life. First with my father, now with me.
He doesn’t waste motion or make small talk. He checks his phone once and sets it face down on the table. His hair is rumpled, his shirt unbuttoned an extra notch, the tie he usually wears nowhere in sight.
“Evening, Ridge,” he says, clearing his throat lightly. “You wanted to meet. Everything okay?”
