Chapter 3
Three
A day later, in the sterile office of the state’s attorney, Noah Kandor sat hunched over his desk, his eyes burning from lack of sleep. Weeks had blurred together in his mind as he chased down leads in the high-profile corruption case that had consumed his every spare moment. A small inconsistency in an accounting report, a thread he noticed, brought him to pursue Fairchild’s accountant, Robert Hilton.
Hilton came running to Noah after his favor with Fairchild took a downward turn. Noah believed, and he finally had proof, that CEO Maxim Fairchild, who had landscaping contracts across the nation through Verdant Horizons, was diverting funds from those prolific contracts to offshore accounts.
Noah’s dedication to his job was unmatched, but lately, it had started to take a toll on him. The late nights, the lack of sleep, the likely death of his informant, the sense that he wasn’t getting any closer to something powerful and ugly—it all bothered him. He could feel the pressure building, the whispers behind closed doors in the office. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The records he reviewed were supposedly Maxim Fairchild’s, but not once was his name mentioned.
Alex Marcel, his best friend and partner, walked into the room holding two cups of coffee. “You look like hell,” Alex said, placing one of the cups on Noah’s desk with a plop. “Did you sleep at all last night?”
Noah didn’t bother looking up from the mountain of papers scattered in front of him. “I’ll sleep when I figure out what’s going on,” he muttered, reaching for the coffee.
Alex leaned against the edge of Noah’s desk, crossing his arms. “You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep this up. You’ve been chasing Fairchild’s shadow for weeks now. Do you even know how deep this rabbit hole goes?”
Noah finally looked up, exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. “I just got the report. It’s official: Robert Hilton is dead. It has to be deeper than we thought, Alex. I’ve been going through these financial records, and there are gaps. Transfers that make no sense, shell companies popping up out of nowhere. Fairchild is up to his chicken neck in this, I’m sure of it. Verdant Horizons won the bid for the Green Horizons project. It’s a three-billion-dollar money grab.
“Robert Hilton was onto something, and they chopped him up and dumped him in the Blunt landfill. Why did Hilton come to us if he didn’t think there was something going on with Verdant Horizons? From what I can see, Verdant Horizons has projects in fourteen other states and is bidding for more. Now, with Hilton gone, we have nothing but innuendo. Someone gave up his location.”
Alex frowned, his usually laidback demeanor replaced with concern. “You think it’s someone in the state’s attorney’s office? One of our own?”
Noah nodded slowly, taking a sip of the bitter coffee. “I can’t prove it yet, but, yeah, I think so. His location wasn’t found by chance. And whoever it is, they’re covering their tracks well. I keep hitting walls.”
Alex sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. “If you’re right, this is bigger than anything we’ve dealt with before. You know what Fairchild’s money makes him capable of. If he’s in bed with someone in our office, you’re not just playing with fire, you’re practically bathing in gasoline.”
Noah let out a humorless laugh. “Believe me, I know. I’ve been getting that feeling more and more lately. People are avoiding me in the hallways. Conversations stop when I walk by. Something’s going on, Alex, and it’s not just paranoia.”
Alex studied Noah for a moment, then nodded. “Alright, I trust your instincts. But you can’t do this alone. We’ll keep digging, but you need to be careful. A man in Fairchild’s place with a billion-dollar business is not the kind of guy to let people poke around in his affairs for long.”
Noah smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.” He grabbed a file off his desk. “Here’s the Douglas case statements. I finished them for presentation to the grand jury last night.”
Alex pushed off the desk and clapped a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “I’ve got the last statements scheduled with a witness in the Taylor case. We just have to wrap up the Webber case, and we meet our deadline. I’ll start going through the Hilton files with you tomorrow. We’ll figure it out.”
Before Noah could respond, Alex’s phone buzzed. U.S. Attorney Calloway. A tingle ran down his spine.
“Marcel,” Alex answered, putting the call on speaker.
“Agent Marcel,” Calloway’s voice was smooth, deliberate. “We need to talk. Without your partner.”
Alex sat up. “That so?”
“It is,” Calloway replied. “I’d prefer this conversation in person.”
Noah noticed how even Alex kept his voice. “What’s this about?”
“Noah Kandor,” Calloway said flatly. “And how far you’re willing to go for him.”
Alex’s grip on the phone tightened. “I’ll be there in five, sir.” He gave Noah one last concerned look before heading toward the door. “You heard the boss—he wants to talk about you.” At the door, he turned to face Noah. “Promise me you’ll at least try to close your eyes for a few minutes tonight.”
Noah waved him off, his mind already shifting back to the puzzle in front of him. “Yeah, yeah. We can gossip when you get back.” He took a sip of coffee. He had to stop drinking so much caffeine. “I’ll catch up on sleep when Fairchild is behind bars.”
Alex chuckled softly as he left, but Noah could hear the tension beneath it. They both knew this case was becoming more dangerous by the day.
Noah glanced at the stack of files on his desk again, his eyes tracing the names and numbers, searching for the pattern he knew was there. The truth was close—he could feel it, but so was the danger. And for the first time in his career, Noah wasn’t sure which would come first.
The quiet should have been a relief, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Well, of course it was. The boss wanted to talk about him.
Noah wasn’t stupid. He knew how things went in his line of work. You go after someone like Maxim Fairchild, and people start talking.
At first, it was whispers in the bullpen—comments muttered just loud enough for him to hear. Kandor’s been on this like a dog with a bone. What’s his angle? Guy’s obsessed. Nothing new, just the usual grumbling from agents who liked their jobs clean and predictable.
But then it got sharper.
A case like Fairchild’s didn’t just attract attention—it dragged it in, kicking and screaming. And not just from the people on the other side of the law. Higher-ups started watching. Colleagues started keeping their distance. Some were annoyed, others outright resentful. The last thing they wanted was a big fish like Fairchild knowing someone was digging around in his business. Because when someone like Fairchild noticed you—you became a problem to solve.
It wasn’t just about the case anymore. It was the politics, the bureaucracy, the egos in the office that turned something real into something personal. The jealous ones who thought he was grandstanding. The ambitious ones who thought he was reckless. The ones who worried that his digging would bring Fairchild’s attention somewhere it didn’t belong—onto them.
Work gossip had a way of traveling. And if it reached the wrong ears, it wasn’t just Noah’s job on the line. It was his safety. His career. Maybe more.
So, yeah, he was worried. And for damn good reason.
* * *
The heavy glass door clicked shut behind Alex Marcel, leaving Calloway alone in his office. He exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, but it was one he couldn’t ignore.
Through the window, the city stretched under a pale sun, but his thoughts stayed firmly inside these walls. Marcel took the warning seriously—Calloway could see it in his face, in the slight tension in his jaw as he left. That was good. He needed someone to watch Noah Kandor, because Noah sure as hell wasn’t watching out for himself.
Calloway leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming absently on the desk. He didn’t doubt Kandor’s instincts—hell, the man was one of the best investigators in the state. But talent meant nothing if it got you killed. And Fairchild? Fairchild wasn’t just another corrupt businessman; he was a problem that knew how to stay hidden.
And yet Noah kept pressing, kept digging, like he didn’t know what it meant to pull at the wrong threads. Worse, his own coworkers were starting to take notice. Calloway had heard the whispers—resentment, irritation, jealousy. Some agents didn’t like that Kandor was putting a target on the office. Others just didn’t like him, period.
That was dangerous. Office gossip had a way of slipping beyond office walls, and when the wrong ears picked it up, people got hurt.
Calloway glanced at the half-empty coffee mug on his desk, his appetite for caffeine gone. He had been in this job long enough to know when trouble was coming. And right now? It was barreling straight toward Noah Kandor.
He just hoped Marcel would be able to pull him out before it was too late. He had seen agents like Noah before—driven, relentless, too stubborn to know when to pull back. It made them good at their jobs, but it also made them reckless. And recklessness got people noticed.
Alex had seen it too. He just wasn’t ready to admit it.
“Marcel,” Calloway had said just before Alex stood to leave. “You know I’m right about this.”
Alex had hesitated, gripping the arms of his chair like he wasn’t sure whether to stay or go. “Noah’s careful,” he had said, but his tone lacked conviction.
“Noah’s smart,” Calloway corrected. “Careful? That’s another thing entirely.” He leaned forward. “The office is talking. Some of them think he’s got a grudge; some think he’s in over his head. Either way, that kind of chatter doesn’t stay in-house. If Fairchild catches wind of it, what do you think happens next?”
Alex had exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “If I tell him to ease up, he won’t listen.”
“I don’t expect him to,” Calloway said. “I expect you to keep him from getting himself killed.”
Now, as he stared at the closing door, he just hoped Marcel would act before it was too late.
Calloway pulled a cell phone from his pocket and pressed a redial button. “It’s done.”
* * *
Noon sunlight streamed through the large window behind Ruth Everhart's desk, casting long shadows over the meticulously organized surface. Stacks of case files sat to one side, her laptop perched in the middle, and a half-empty mug of black coffee sat on a mug warmer within arm’s reach. She was scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad inserted in a leather portfolio, her brow furrowed, fully immersed in preparing for an upcoming deposition.
A soft knock at the door drew her attention. Before she could respond, Matt Brandt stepped inside, balancing a paper bag and two drinks in a cardboard tray. His grin was wide, but something about it felt too familiar, too insistent.
“Thought you could use a lunch break.” He placed the bag on her desk without waiting for an invitation. The scent of fresh deli sandwiches wafted out as he set down one of the drinks—a raspberry seltzer, her favorite.
Ruth blinked, momentarily startled. “Oh… Matt. You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her voice cautious.
“It’s nothing.” He settled into one of the guest chairs across from her desk like he belonged there. “I know how hard you work. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”
Ruth smiled faintly, her mind racing. His gestures had once seemed friendly, even supportive. But now, they felt loaded, like they came with strings she didn’t want to pull.
“Thank you,” she kept her tone professional, “but I actually brought something from home today.”
He waved her comment away like it didn’t matter. “You can eat that later. This is better. And, hey, I’m here to keep you company.”
Ruth stiffened slightly, closing her legal pad and setting her pen on top. “Matt, I really appreciate it, but I have a lot to get through before a teleconference this afternoon.”
“Exactly.” He leaned forward and propped his elbows on her desk, his voice dropping to something conspiratorial. “You’ve been buried in work. I figured this would give you a chance to breathe. Maybe even relax for five minutes.”
She forced a polite smile, ignoring the way his eyes lingered a beat too long on her blouse before meeting hers. “That’s thoughtful, but I’m fine. Really.”
Instead of taking the hint, Matt stood and moved behind her desk, startling her as he placed a hand on the back of her chair. “You’ve got to stop running yourself into the ground, Ruthie. Stress isn’t good for you. I could help you with that if you’d let me.”
Her breath caught, and she immediately pushed the chair back. She stood, putting distance between them. “I appreciate the concern, Matt, but I manage just fine.”
He chuckled, brushing off her obvious discomfort. “You don’t have to be so formal with me. We’re friends, right? Or maybe… more than friends?”
Ruth’s heart sank as her worst fears about his intentions crystallized. She felt the walls closing in, but she kept her tone steady. “We are colleagues. I think we should keep things strictly professional, Matt. It’s important to me to maintain clear boundaries.”
Matt’s grin faltered, but only slightly. “Boundaries, huh? Don’t tell me you’re one of those women who think every guy’s out to get something. I’m just trying to be nice here.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Ruth said quickly, hating the defensive edge in her voice. “I just… prefer to focus on work.”
He took a step closer, forcing her to lean subtly away. “You’re too tense, Ruthie. That’s all I’m saying. If you’d just let yourself unwind, you’d see how good things could be. You wouldn’t be buried under such a heavy workload.”
Before she could respond, Melanie appeared in the doorway, her voice cutting through the moment like a lifeline. “Ruth, your deposition starts in five minutes.”
Ruth shot her a grateful glance. “Thanks, Melanie. I’ll get set up now.”
Matt lingered, clearly weighing whether to push further. Finally, he stepped back, his tone turning playful but with an edge that sent a chill down her spine. “Alright, Ruthie. Guess I’ll let you get back to it. But you should loosen up—you might be surprised at what you’re missing.” He crossed the threshold. “Stop by my office at five. I want to go over your defense for the Warren case with you.”
He gave her a slow, deliberate smile before turning and strolling out of the office, leaving the deli bag on her desk.
The moment he was gone, Ruth let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping as she glanced at Melanie, who was watching her from the hallway.
“You okay?” Melanie asked softly.
Ruth nodded, though her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the bag. “Lunch is on me today,” she said with a forced laugh, trying to lighten the moment.
Melanie didn’t smile. “You need to deal with this, Ruth.”
“I know,” Ruth murmured, her voice barely audible. “I just… need to figure out how.”
As she closed the door behind Melanie, Ruth leaned against it, her resolve hardening. Matt’s behavior crossed the line, and she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Today was December twenty-third. The offices were closed until January second. She’d have a plan by then—she hoped.