"Eat your sandwich," she told Delia. "And tell me about your date with the new paramedic."
Delia launched into a story about the disaster that had been her recent attempt at romance, and for a few minutes, Lila let herself forget about stolen files, anonymous texts, and the shadow of Warren Caldwell hanging over everything.
But only for a few minutes.
Because somewhere in this town, someone was watching. Waiting. Planning their next move.
And Lila needed to be ready when it came.
Chapter Nine
The centennial was two weeks away, and Ronan was running out of time.
He stood at the window of his cottage on Beach Road, watching the Gulf turn gold as the sun dropped toward the horizon. His phone sat on the table behind him, silent for once. Caleb had gone dark three hours ago—running deep analysis on the Coastal Property Services connection, he'd said—and Lila was at work, trying to hold together an event that had become a cover for something far more dangerous.
The break-in had changed everything. Before, they'd been building a case. Gathering evidence. Moving carefully, quietly, the way Shadow Ops was supposed to operate. Now they were exposed. Whoever ran this operation knew Lila was a threat, knew she'd been documenting their activities, knew she had to be neutralized.
The council seat offer. The stolen files. The anonymous text that had lured her to discover the theft. Each move was designed to push her toward a choice: join them or be destroyed.
His phone buzzed. Caleb.
Got something. You're not going to like it.
Tell me anyway.
David Webb. The surveyor who replaced Daniel Bennett. I found his connection.
Ronan waited, watching the last sliver of sun sink below the water.
Webb's employment file shows he was hired in Georgia six months AFTER Daniel Bennett's death.
They recruited him to replace Bennett.
Looks that way. Webb has been certifying surveys for them ever since. Every property that changed hands in the coastal restriction zone went through his office.
Can we prove intent?
Not yet. But I found something else. Webb made a deposit three days after Bennett died. Fifty thousand dollars, wired from an offshore account that traces back to—guess who.
Ronan didn't need to guess.
Caldwell.
Through four intermediaries, but yes. Warren Caldwell funded the payment that bought Webb's cooperation. Which means Caldwell was actively involved in covering up whatever Bennett found.
The pieces were falling into place. Daniel Bennett had discovered something—falsified surveys, restricted coastal access, money moving through shell companies. He'd been killed for it. And Warren Caldwell, the beloved philanthropist who'd spoken at his funeral, had paid to make sure no one picked up where Bennett left off.
Until Lila.
Is this enough to move on Caldwell?
It's enough to start building a case. But Ronan—if we move now, before the centennial, we risk blowing the whole operation. Caldwell's not the only player. He's connected to something bigger. Take him down too early, and the rest scatter.
And if we wait, Lila stays in danger.
A long pause before Caleb's response.
That's the calculation. Mission first, or her.
