Aiden: You're awake, aren't you?
I stare at the screen.
Me: How do you know?
Aiden: Your apartment light is visible from the street. I may have driven by to check on you.
Me: That's either sweet or creepy.
Aiden: I prefer sweet. Can I come up?
I glance around at the chaos of my living room—files everywhere, empty coffee cups, me in pajamapants and an old academy t-shirt with my hair in a disaster of a bun.
Me: Give me five minutes.
Aiden: Take your time. I brought food.
He shows up with Thai takeout and a smile that makes my stomach flip even at 2:30 in the morning. I've managed to consolidate the worst of the file chaos into semi-organized piles and change into slightly more presentable pajamas, which is the best I can offer at this hour.
"You found something." It's not a question. His eyes search my face with the same intensity I bring to burn patterns—looking for the story.
"Blackwood Properties." I gesture toward the files as he sets the food on my kitchen counter. "Both buildings trace back to the same ownership. Someone's targeting them specifically."
Aiden's expression sharpens. "That's a hell of a connection."
"It gets better." I pull up my laptop, showing him the corporate filings I've been wading through. "Blackwood has been acquiring properties all over Copper Ridge for the past three years. Mostly olderbuildings in neighborhoods marked for urban renewal. They buy cheap, sit on the properties, then sell to developers when the area gentrifies."
"And someone doesn't like that."
"Someone really doesn't like that." I accept the container of pad thai he offers and eat standing up, too wired to sit. "The question is who. Disgruntled former employee? Displaced tenant? Competitor trying to sabotage them?"
"Or someone with a personal vendetta."
"Could be all of the above." I chew thoughtfully. "The accelerant pattern suggests amateur work, but the target selection is sophisticated. Whoever's doing this understands how Blackwood operates. They know which buildings are valuable, which ones are empty, when to strike for maximum damage."
"Inside knowledge."
"Exactly."
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the click of chopsticks against containers and the distant hum of late-night traffic. Having Aiden here at 2 AM, helping me think through a case, feels natural in a way that surprises me. I've always worked alone. Preferred it, even. But this—his quiet presence, his smart questions, the wayhe lets me process without trying to fill every silence—this works.
"I should interview Blackwood's management," I say finally. "See if they have any idea who might want to target them. Check their employee records for recent terminations, contract disputes, anything that might point to a motive."
"Want backup?"
I raise an eyebrow. "You're offering to come to a corporate interview?"
"I'm offering to be there if you need me." He sets down his container and leans against my counter, arms crossed. "This is getting bigger than a couple of random fires, Riley. If someone's systematically targeting a company, that's organized. Planned. Dangerous."
"I can handle dangerous."
"I know you can. But you don't have to handle it alone."
The words land somewhere soft. I look away, focusing on my pad thai like it contains crucial evidence.
"I'll call them first thing in the morning to set it up," I say. "If you're serious about coming."
"I'm serious."
