He typed back.
Walk me through it.
Hendricks receives payment for legal services from approximately 40 different clients per year. Standard stuff. But 12 of those clients are holding companies registered in Delaware, and all 12 share the same registered agent.
Who's the agent?
A firm called Coastal Ventures LLC. Which is itself owned by another holding company. Which is owned by another. I traced it back four layers before the trail went cold.
But?
But one of the intermediate companies has a board member who also serves on the Caldwell Charitable Foundation board.
Ronan stared at the screen. Warren Caldwell. The name kept circling back, no matter which thread they pulled.
That's not proof.
No. It's a connection. Proof requires documentation that directly ties Caldwell to illegal activity. Right now, all we have is proximity.
What about the surveys? Daniel Bennett's notes mentioned discrepancies.
I'm working on that. The county surveyor who replaced Bennett—guy named David Webb—has some interesting gaps in his employment history. Three years unaccounted for before he took the county job.
Military?
No record of it. Private sector, maybe. Or something he doesn't want on his resume.
Keep digging. And cross-reference Webb with the properties that changed hands after the surveys were certified.
Already running. I'll have something by tonight.
Ronan closed the laptop and rubbed his eyes. The pieces were coming together, but slowly. Too slowly. Every day that passed was another day for whoever was running this operation to notice the investigation. Another day for Lila to be in danger.
He needed to move faster. But moving faster meant taking risks, and risks meant potential exposure.
His phone buzzed again. Different number this time. Local.
Cross. It's Mitch DeMario. Got time for a beer tonight? Want to compare notes on the security plan.
Ronan considered. DeMario was sharp—too sharp to dismiss, but potentially useful if managed correctly. The man had deep roots in Blossom Springs. His security company, DeMario Security, was local. His wife owned the flower shop on Main Square. He knew this town in ways Ronan never could.
He typed back.
Sarge's? Seven o'clock?
See you there.
The flower shop sat on the corner of Main Square and Main Street, its windows bright with arrangements of tropical blooms and greenery. Ronan paused outside, watching through the glass as a blonde-haired woman helped a customer select a bouquet.
Izzy Payton DeMario. He'd looked her up after Caleb's initial briefing on Mitch. She'd grown up in Blossom Springs, left for a while, and came back. Married Mitch about a year ago, according to the local paper's announcement. The shop was called Petal Pushers, because of course it was.
He wasn't here for flowers. He was here to understand the terrain.
The customer left with her purchase, and Izzy looked up as the bell chimed. Her smile was warm; professional.
"Can I help you find something?"
"Just looking." He moved along the display cases, noting the exits, the back room, and the security camera mounted above the register. "Nice shop."
