Page 149 of Flint’s Strike

“Whatever happened this weekend,” Nate says quietly, his gaze never leaving his laptop screen, “it did her good. She’s…more Parker than she’s been in a while.”

I’m so shocked, I can’t come up with a response to save my life.

Before I recover enough to say anything, Parker practically dances back into the room. “Guess who just got a text from the lab.”

Nate’s still typing, but one of his brows curves upward. “They finally process that damn memory card?”

“Yep. They’re sending the link to our inboxes now.”

“What memory card?” I ask.

Parker sets the drinks in front of me and wipes her hands on her jeans. “Kessler’s. We found it taped to the underside of one of his dresser drawers.”

“And you haven’t looked at it yet?” I can’t help my skepticism.

The glare she gives me could strip paint. “Someone spent a fair bit of time makin’ Kessler’s death look like an accident, Eliot. We weren’t gonna touch it until the lab pulled prints from the card and the tape.”

“Fire guy, remember?”

With a sigh, Parker returns her hand to my knee. “Sorry. I think we’re all runnin’ a little hot. And there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Well, I’m here now.” I link our fingers under the table and give her hand a squeeze. “Catch me up.”

“The ME confirmed Kessler’s cause of death was strangulation, but she also found what might be an injection site. Toxicology report won’t be back for another twenty-four hours, and the decomp was too severe for her to say for sure. But that’s two inspectors dyin’ under suspicious circumstances, both connected to Apex.”

Nate’s building pivot table after pivot table, not pausing to look at any of them, while Parker continues to fill me in on what they discovered this morning.

“A state senator? Fuck me.”

Across the table, Nate chokes on a sip of water. “There are approximately seventeen things I could say right now. I’m choosing none of them. Apparently, I still have boundaries.”

Parker’s lips twitch. “Your restraint has been noted. If you’re done color coding the entirety of the known universe, can we talk about all those pivot tables?”

Nate gets to his feet, laser pointer in his hand. “Seven. Seven companies own all forty-one of the buildings Eliot and his team flagged. The top issue was inadequate water supply with or without a missing fire pump. Second was the fireproof coating on the steel columns, and third was missing firewalls. Coincidentally, these are also in order of how much a company would need to spend to fix them.”

“Well, that gives us ammunition for the warrants,” Parker says.

Nate heaves a sigh. “Judge Nesbitt is going to love us. Or she’ll throw us out and permanently ban us from her chambers.”

Parker huffs out a laugh. “Only one way to find out.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Parker

Every wall of Senator Dines’s office is a shrine for his ego. Carefully arranged photos show him shaking hands with men more important than he is: the governor, the secretary of state, a bishop, and a dozen more I don’t recognize. Every one of them is a man. Not a woman to be found in any of the shots.

Nate and I stand side-by-side in the waiting area, dressed in our finest. I even put on makeup. The receptionist, Mary, urged us to sit down, but this is a game, and we know how to play it. We ain’t here to wait meekly for Senator Dines to decide we’re worth his time.

At eleven on the dot, a man who isn’t Gabe comes out of his office. “Good morning. Captains Hardison and Elmore? I’m Denny Osgood, Senator Dines’s lawyer.”

He doesn’t spare me more than a brief glance before offering Nate his hand. When he shakes mine, he holds on longer than necessary. Long enough I know exactly what’s going through his mind before he lets go.

“The Senator asked me to walk you back. If you’ll follow me?” He leads us down a hallway lined with even more photos, and into an office bigger than the entire Ranger bullpen.

The senator rises from behind a polished cherry wood desk with a huge smile. “Come on in. Can I have my assistant get either of you a coffee? Water? Carol makes a sweet tea that’ll ruin you for anyone else’s.”

“We’re fine,” I say.