“What did they say?”
She told him. Word for word. Her voice sounded strange—flat, detached.
He typed the number into his phone and sent it to Caleb. Then he set both phones on the table.
“You’re not going back to your house. Not tonight. Not until this is over.”
“Ronan—”
“This isn’t a discussion.” He wasn’t raising his voice. The force was in his eyes. “They came into your house. They searched your office. They hit my car. And now they’re calling you at midnight to remind you what they did to your father.”
“I know what they did to my father.”
“Then you know what they’ll do to you.” He moved closer. His hand found hers on the couch cushion. “Stay here. With me. Let me do the one thing I’m actually good at.”
“What’s that?”
“Keeping the people I care about alive.”
She laced her fingers through his. His hand was warm. His grip was careful—aware of the bruised ribs, the cut above his eye.
“I’ll stay,” she said. “But I’m not hiding. I’m going to work tomorrow. I’m going to run the centennial. And when this is over, I’m going to stand in front of this town and tell them who Warren Caldwell is.”
His thumb moved slowly over her knuckles. Back and forth. Outside, the inlet whispered against the dock. The frogs sang.
She didn’t let go. Neither did he.
Chapter Thirteen
Agent Sarah Holloway kept them waiting for twenty minutes.
Ronan sat in the FBI field office lobby, watching Lila pretend to read a magazine she hadn't turned a page of since they'd arrived. Her knee bounced. Her fingers gripped the glossy cover hard enough to crease it.
"She's making us wait on purpose," Lila said quietly.
"Probably."
"Power move?"
"Or she's genuinely busy. Either way, don't let it get in your head."
Lila set down the magazine and looked at him. Dark circles under her eyes. Tension in her jaw. She'd barely slept last night, and the ninety-minute drive to Tampa hadn't helped.
"What if she doesn't believe me?"
"She has the evidence. She'll believe that."
"Evidence can be explained away. Dismissed. I've watched this town do it for two years."
"This isn't the town. This is federal."
Agent Holloway was not an easy sell.
She listened to Caleb’s presentation without interrupting. Twenty minutes. Financial records, shell companies, property transfers, the trail from Coastal Property Services to the Caldwell Charitable Foundation.
When he finished, she folded her arms.
“Who gathered this?”
