Page 20 of Dichotomy

“I’m just trying to find out who the real bad guys are here. Surely, you can understand that.”

If someone was using the FIA to take out the Archers, then that was a problem. Although any organization that stayed in the shadows this much probably wasn’t all sunshine and roses. I doubted that the Archers had convinced this man to leave without employing some less than legal means.

Adrian regarded me carefully for a few moments before nodding. “If we can help you catch therealbad guys, let us know,” he said, handing me a business card. He got out of the car, and I was left staring at his retreating back.

I had more questions than answers, but one thing was clear; this was a lot more complicated than a “vigilante organization conducting illegal activities.” Maybe the Archers did participate in illegal activities, but all the evidence was also pointing to themdoing those activities for good. As a federal agent, all illegal activities were supposed to be prosecuted, and all criminals should be arrested. As a young man who listened to his father sob for hours after coming home from that shift all those years ago, would an organization like the Archers have saved that woman’s life? Would they have spared that six-year-old from making that call or prevented my father from spiraling into alcoholism for a decade before he got help?

I still wasn’t any closer to answers an hour later when Mike opened the door.

“Good news,” he said as he hefted himself into the SUV. “I just heard from headquarters that we got a recording submitted through the tip line. Something that’s going to nail that bitch.” He gestured towards the building. “Let’s head back to headquarters. The director wants to brief us.”

A recording submitted? Just out of the blue? I kept my expression neutral as I shifted the SUV into drive and pulled away from the curb. Something about this whole situation was starting to stink. With Adrian’s words in my ears, I was putting together pieces to this puzzle, and I had no doubt that Evelyn Harper was the key piece.

CHAPTER 11

ALEXANDER

The pavement and old rail cars reflected the afternoon sun back into the air, turning our surroundings into a sauna. Bodies pressed in on all sides of us as people jostled to get a better view of the makeshift stage set up against an old boxcar. The afternoon sun felt like molten metal against my navy-blue suit jacket, and I was regretting wearing the stifling material as we waited in the old rail yard for the groundbreaking to begin. I shifted, blocking someone from jostling Evelyn.

Evelyn’s white, wide-brimmed sun hat brushed my shoulder as she glanced up at me. Her light blue sundress hugged her torso and flared out at her waist. The ruffled hem danced around her knees, and her white sandals matched her hat. Her arm brushed against mine, and I fought the urge to wrap my arm around her like I wanted to. But unfortunately, we were in public, and I had promised to follow the no-PDA rule she had instituted after the Gala. I understood the reasoning, but now, as a man off to her right eyed her form appreciatively, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and claim her in front of everyone.

I swallowed down my caveman urge as Nathaniel Drake took the stage, clapping politely along with everyone else. This wasmy first time seeing the man in person. I had seen several of his video interviews over the last year and a half as he pitched his idea for revitalizing the old rail yard to various city officials and on news outlets as he garnered public support. He was shorter than I thought he would be, standing at 5’8”, if I had to guess. He had an even build with dark brown hair that was neatly combed over. His face was clean-shaven with no remarkable features. His suit was perfectly tailored, a classic navy suit with a crisp white shirt and no tie. He moved to the podium with an easy grace that spoke of confidence before crowds.

“Welcome, everyone, and good afternoon!” he said, his voice upbeat. He smiled widely as he took in the size of the crowd.

There were more people than I expected there to be. I had expected the city council, and I had spotted the mayor, Patrick Winslow, in the crowd, but it appeared that quite a few members of the public had attended as well.

“Thank you all for joining me as we break ground on the Station Plaza project. These tracks were once the veins of our city, bringing goods, opportunity, and hope to every corner of our region. But like so many great arteries cut off from their source, they fell silent when our factories closed, and our community moved elsewhere.”

As he spoke, I noticed Evelyn had her phone out. Her fingers flew across the screen even as she watched him speak. I peered over her shoulder to see the notes app up on her phone.

“I didn’t invite you along today for you to work,” I whispered in her ear, enjoying the shiver that ran up her spine even on the hot day.

“I’m not taking them for SDS,” she murmured.

I frowned, then the pieces came together. She was taking them for the Archers. Information was one of the Archer’s most valuable currencies, and this was a big project.

Twenty years ago, this railyard had once been full of life as both freight and passenger trains rolled along the tracks. When the old manufacturing plant shut its doors, though, the freight lines stopped running, and the passenger trains came through the city less and less frequently until they stopped altogether. Today, only freight liners rumbled through the city, but they didn’t stop. The buildings in the railyard had fallen into disrepair, and crime was more rampant in this district. The Archers probably had their hands full here, so what Drake was talking about today would directly affect their operations. With that in mind, I kept listening to Drake’s words but in a new light.

“Today, we will restore more than steel and stone. We will restore promise and prosperity. Under this initiative, we will build a modern passenger station right here in the heart of this district. We will turn this area into an oasis in the city, a place where young professionals and local entrepreneurs will flock to. A place where commerce will boom with the return of local businesses. And all of this will be fed by these train tracks. We will restore this city to its former glory.”

Drake was a talented speaker, and he had the crowd hanging on his every word.

“This isn’t just urban renewal; it’s a reconnection to our heritage and a bold step toward our shared future. I invite each of you—residents, business owners, and travelers—to join us in writing the next chapter of this city’s story. Together, we’ll turn these forgotten tracks into the lifeblood of a vibrant new community. Thank you.”

He used the screens placed behind him to show the proposed finished project. I had to admit, it looked impressive. His architects had kept the industrial feel and blended in small greenscapes between the buildings and a large park in the center of the district. Tall apartment buildings rose on each side of the tracks.

Evelyn frowned, her brow furrowed as she studied the images.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There are a couple hundred families living in this area,” she said quietly. “They’re not going to be able to afford to live here once this gentrification process is completed.”

I hadn’t even considered that. The weight of it settled low in my chest, uncomfortable and deserved. Drake exited the stage and shook hands with Mayor Winslow and the city council members. Drake began making his rounds in the crowd. I placed a hand on Evelyn’s back and guided her towards the stage. I wanted to meet Drake, but then I had plans for the rest of Evelyn’s and my time together. Plans that did not include baking in the hot sun all afternoon.

Evelyn slipped her phone into her dress pocket and tucked her hand into my elbow as we approached the stage. Drake was talking to Mayor Winslow, who smiled when he noticed us walk up.

“Ah, good afternoon, Alex.” Patrick shook my hand, his smile warm. We had been talking almost every other day as I followed up on the case against Citadel, which was dragging out much longer than I expected it to. “Have you met Mr. Drake yet?”