"What are we looking for?" Lila asked.
"Patterns. Connections. Anything that doesn't fit." He studied the building—the windows, the entrance, the alley that ran along the side. "Has Hendricks ever handled any of your family's legal work?"
"No. We use a firm in Tampa for anything major. My dad always said—" She stopped.
"What did your dad say?"
"He said it was better to keep business outside of town. That people know too much about each other here." She'd never thought about it before—just accepted it as one of her father's quirks. But now, standing in front of Hendricks' office with a federal agent beside her, it took on a different meaning. "He knew something was wrong. Even back then."
"Probably. Your father was a smart man." Ronan's voice was matter-of-fact, not unkind. "Smart enough to keep his family at a distance from whatever he was investigating."
"But not smart enough to stay alive."
The words came out harder than she intended. Ronan turned to look at her, and for a moment, the careful blankness dropped from his expression. Something else was there—understanding, maybe. Or recognition.
"Being smart doesn't always protect you," he said. "Sometimes the people running the game are smarter. Or have more resources. Or are willing to do things you're not."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"
"It's supposed to make you careful." He held her gaze. "Your father was investigating alone. He didn't have backup. He didn't have anyone watching his back. You do."
"You."
"Me. And the people I work with."
She wanted to ask about those people. Wanted to know who they were, where they came from, what authority they had to be here doing whatever it was they were doing. But she could see in his face that he wouldn't tell her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
"So what now?" she asked instead. "We can't exactly walk in and start asking questions."
"No. But we can establish patterns." He pulled out his phone and typed something quickly. "My partner is running a financial analysis on the firm. Client lists, fee structures, anything that looks unusual. In the meantime, I want to know who visits this office and when."
"You want me to watch him."
"I want you to notice. You already do—you noticed the permits, the property transfers, the names that didn't add up. Keep noticing. But don't do anything that would draw attention."
"I've been doing this for two years without drawing attention."
"You've been doing it for two years without anyone catching you," he corrected. "That's not the same thing. Someone flagged those permits at the county clerk's office. Someone noticed you were asking questions. The fact that they haven't acted yet doesn't mean they won't."
A chill ran down her spine despite the afternoon heat. "You think they're watching me?"
"I think they're watching everyone who might be a problem." He rolled his shoulders once and went still. "Which is why you need to be careful. Normal routine. Normal behavior. Nothing that suggests you're doing anything other than planning a centennial celebration."
"And meeting secretly with federal agents on street corners."
"That too." The corner of his mouth lifted. "We should go. Separate directions. You first."
She nodded and started to turn away. Then stopped.
"Ronan."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Thank you. For—" She gestured vaguely. "Whatever this is. For not just disappearing with my files and leaving me in the dark."
He blinked once, slow, the way people do when they’re absorbing something big. "You trusted me with something important. I don't take that lightly."
"I noticed."
