He and Gus had walked the entire site, checking every entry point, every alley, every window.
Then, Lainey had walked him through phase one. The historic district spanned four blocks. She was in charge of two. One full block would face the street, with two alleyways tucked between them. She’d unrolled the plans and pointed out each detail, her voice getting more excited with each one.
“I want it to feel like Worth Avenue,” she said.
Finn knew Worth Avenue in Palm Beach. Upscale luxury shops with balconies overflowing with flowers and charm and a price tag to match. Everything looked perfect and chichi. A far cry from the half-renovated storefronts in front of them.
“Arched walkways, wrought-iron balconies with flowering vines,” she said, her voice growing more animated with every detail. “We’ll paint the stucco in coastal pastels and have a little courtyard at the end of each alley. We can add café tables and benches, soft music, flowers. A fountain. Oh, it’ll look fabulous.”
She’d tapped a section labeledThe Promenade. “Imagine people strolling here. Local shops, small cafes, boutique galleries. People will love it.”
Her enthusiasm made him believe it, too. For a hot minute. The vision wasn’t stopping vandals or stalkers.
If she could complete the project, it would generate a lot of new business downtown. At this point, that was a big if.
Finn was going to make sure it happened one way or another.
He and Gus discussed the timing of the destruction. It always happened after the crew left. So, anytime during the night.
The messages left were concerning too. They were meant to look like kids wrote them, but he thought they were too specific. Intentional.
Someone wanted Lainey off the project. The questions he kept asking himself were: Is Lainey being targeted? Is the location of the project important? Or is it something else tied to the development?
Although why would anyone target Lainey? That didn’t make sense.
Gus might have some insight since he had been working there since the project began. He planned to talk to him when he arrived.
They had to secure the site, find the threat before someone got hurt.
Finn stoodnear the edge of the jobsite, coffee cooling in his hand as he watched the crew trickle in and get to work. Lainey would be here any minute, but he wanted to talk to Gus first.
The foreman was mid-conversation with a pair of workers near a delivery truck. Then Finn shifted his gaze to a tall, lanky guy hauling boxes into one of the buildings. Nothing unusual.
Every job site had a rhythm to it, from the timing of deliveries to the flow of workers to the hammering and sawing.
You could feel if the rhythm was off. And something was off. And that was what Finn was feeling. The usual flow felt disrupted.
He stepped back and tried to imagine what it could be. The guys were getting antsy with him watching them and kept glancing over. He got that. No one liked someone looking over their shoulders.
That wasn’t it, though.
Finn moved through the space, nodding at the workers, circling the perimeter, inspecting windows, testing locks, looking for any disturbances.
Nothing jumped out.
Until it did.
He smelled it first. Faint but still there.
On the far side of a half-restored facade tucked behind a stack of scaffolding boards, he crouched down and spotted the cigarette butt. Still warm. Stuffed into a groove in the concrete. Smoking was never allowed on a construction site. Whoever it was had been here watching. And not so long ago.
Finn straightened and scanned the street. Parked trucks. Closed shop windows. Nothing moving. No lingering shadows.Still, the hair on the back of his neck didn’t settle. Someone had been here. Close enough to make a move.
He snapped a photo of the butt. Then stood there a minute longer. Listening. Waiting.
But the street was quiet except for the voices of the workers.
Behind him, he heard heavy boot steps.
