The old cabinets and fixtures were finally ripped out by the crew. The place was gutted, a clean slate, ready for whatever came next. In a couple of days, the electrician and plumber were expected to arrive. He was on track despite leaving to escort the woman and boy to the shelter.
Finn tightened a bolt on a steel bracket securing the newel post at the base of the old staircase and stepped back to survey the build. It was midmorning and hot. He wiped the sweat from his brow.
He peeled off his gloves, tossed them in the truck bed, and grabbed his water bottle. He mentally ran through the next steps after the plumbing and electricity were done—insulation, flooring, paint. His gaze drifted toward the historic district project down the street.
There was something fishy going on there.
There’d been a police presence a few days ago. Supposedly kids were to blame. Some kids had no respect for hardworking people who were trying to rebuild neighborhoods.
And the two men on Gus Navarro’s crew—Travis and Dean.
Lazy, both of them. And Finn couldn’t help thinking there was something odd about their behavior. They were always on the phone or goofing off. He would’ve fired their asses weeks ago, but that wasn’t his call.
A truck rumbled to a stop in front of his building.
The driver’s door opened, and a tall, broad-shouldered guy in his mid-thirties climbed out.
“You Ryder?” the man asked.
Finn set down his water bottle and stepped forward. “Yeah. You?”
“Caleb Jennings,” the guy said, holding out his hand to shake. “Just got in. Chase thought you might be able to use my help.”
Finn shook his hand, noting the grip—firm. “You ex-military?”
“Marine,” Caleb replied. “Got out a couple of months ago. Combat engineer, then K9.”
“K9, huh?”
Caleb nodded. “Lost my partner a couple of years ago,” he said quietly. “Dog saved my life more than once. When he passed, I rotated out and started doing recon support.”
“I could sure use the help,” Finn said. “I have a good crew, a kid I’m mentoring, but between Brotherhood jobs and this”—he pointed to the stripped-down building site—“I have more on my plate than I can handle.”
Caleb cracked a smile. “Good. I’m looking to keep busy.”
“Any background in residential construction?”
“More than I need,” Caleb replied with a shrug. “Family’s been building houses for years. I was swinging a hammer before I ever put on a uniform.”
Finn tipped his head toward the door. “Come on in. Let’s get you caught up.”
Inside, the bare interior smelled like old lumber and drywall dust. It didn’t take long to walk Caleb through the floor plan and show him where everything was going.
“Nothing left to do today,” said Finn. “The plumber and electrician are due tomorrow. If you’re up for it, you can handle oversight while I check in with Chase.”
“Absolutely,” Caleb said. “Shoot me the specs, and I’ll keep them on task.”
Finn gave him a brief nod.
As they stepped back outside, Finn took another glance toward the historic district.
Something was brewing over there.
He could feel it.
CHAPTER 7
Gusand his crew spent a good chunk of the morning cleaning up the mess and whitewashing the mural. The police stopped by again, took a report, promised more of a presence and gave a helpful suggestion that she should install security cameras.
