Page 152 of Down Knot Out
Emily settles into one corner of the sofa, shakesout her hands, and cracks a can of sparkling water. “Where are we?”
I point to the second tab on my spreadsheet. “We matched the Redwater Holdings deposits to every incident. Even the minor stuff. Broken plumbing, missing shipments, all of it. There’s a lag of three to four days after each incident before the payout, but it’s consistent.”
Emily leans forward. “Show me.”
I drag my laptop across the table, the casing scarred with old sticker residue. “Here, see the Redwater account? Every time there’s a documented slowdown, someone gets a chunk wired in.”
Dominic leans to the side and points to the printout on the table beside his laptop. “And every slowdown happens on a day when this subcontractor, M. Abbott, is on shift.”
“Abbott?” Emily pulls out a city record, finds the right folder, and flips through the tabs, tapping a sheet with a callused finger. “He’s on the approved list, but he rotates between jobs. Never on the payroll for more than three months.”
Blake stands behind her, staring at the page as if it might bite. “That’s our guy.”
Emily studies the document. “He’s scheduledfor two more site visits this week, both as the only supervisor on shift.”
I write Abbott’s name on the pad, draw a circle around it, then a square. “We need more than a circumstantial trail.”
Dominic slides his glasses to the top of his head, leans back, and stretches. “Set the bait by staging a delivery so we can see what he does.”
Blake latches onto the idea. “We give him a target and have cameras and witnesses ready to form a clean chain of evidence.”
I jot down the steps, mind spinning. “We need to coordinate with the suppliers. If the shipment’s late, Abbott will have an excuse. If it’s on time, we’ll see what he does to sabotage it.”
Emily’s attention fixes on me. “Who’s going to run point?”
Blake and Dominic both wait for my answer. I almost ask Blake to take it, but he reads my mind and shakes his head, as if daring me to try. I’m the project manager.
I clear my throat. “I’ll run point. Blake, you coordinate with the supplier. Dominic, build the timeline and prep the incident reports for the sheriff. Emily, handle the cams and security.”
She gives a crisp, single-motion salute. “You got it, boss.”
The sense of purpose settles the restlessness inside me, the urge to unravel everything with my own hands. This is business, not a blood feud, and we’re going to play it by the book and bury Blake’s father in his own paperwork.
Blake moves closer, his bulk radiating warmth. “If he’s working for Redwater, do you think my dad gave him a fallback for if he gets caught?”
I scan the background check and the gaps in employment history. “Doubtful. He’s a scapegoat.”
Blake’s knuckles crack as he clenches his fists. “Then let’s give him a reason to turn.”
Dominic hums, a low vibration. “I’ll prep an immunity draft for the DA.”
Emily rips open the box of folders and starts arranging them by color and weight. She points at me with a bright green folder. “You might want to rest up before this all goes down.”
I check the clock. It’s past midnight, and the weight of the day pulls at my eyelids. I won’t sleep, but I can at least rest my eyes. “Good idea. Let’s do a walk-through of the plan at seven in the morning, before the crew arrives. If there are changes, we can discuss them over breakfast.”
The others start packing up, but Blake lingers. When the office empties, he takes the chair beside me and leans his head into his hands. For a while,we don’t speak, the only sound being the settling creaks of the Homestead.
Finally, he says, “He’s not going to stop, is he?”
I don’t try to sugarcoat it. “No. He won’t stop until we take everything from him.”
Blake’s hands shake, and I realize it’s not anger this time. It’s relief. He isn’t alone in this, and neither am I.
“You know what I hated most about him?” Blake lifts his head. “He always made me feel like I was the problem. No matter what I did, I was never enough. But now…”
He trails off, and I finish for him, “Now you have a pack. A real one.”
“Yeah, I do.” A tear rolls down his cheek that he doesn’t bother to wipe away.
