Chapter Fifty-Three #2
The buildings on the list that have already burned—whether in the past two weeks or long before that—are shaded gray, and yesterday morning, I hid them from my view completely.
There are only eleven of them, and I’ve personally investigated four—the ones that started this whole shitstorm.
The other seven could be part of the pattern.
I won’t know for sure until I check the SFMO arson investigation reports.
But they’re not going anywhere, and they’re not putting anyone in danger.
Until I know the occupied buildings are safe, they can wait their turn.
My phone buzzes on the table. I save the spreadsheet, turn the device over, and grin.
There’s a barbecue at AJ and Grace’s tomorrow. 2 p.m. Will you come? It’s always a little loud, but I want you to meet everyone. There’ll be ribs. And I’m making my mother’s pie.
For a second, I just stare at the screen. This isn’t a date. It’s not even close to a date. It’s Parker asking me to spend Saturday with her family. Her people. The people who know her best.
I want you to meet everyone.
We’ve gone from casually dating to a relationship to…this in one half less than no time. I’m fucking terrified of how much I want her in my life. But I do. Maybe forever.
I suck in a sharp breath, and don’t even realize I’m holding it until my chest gets tight and heat crawls up my neck. The phone’s still in my hand, the empty reply box mocking me.
What can I bring?
It’s a weak-ass reply, but it must be enough, because Parker replies with a kiss emoji before sending one more message.
If you want to make a good impression, stop by the pet store and get Belle the turkey chew treats in the red bag. She’s the only one who’ll judge you for showing up empty handed.
Dogs like me. I’m likable.
That you are, hot stuff. Even Pookie thinks so.
I’m never going to live that down.
Nope. But I’m gonna enjoy watching you try.
I set my phone facedown, a stupid grin on my face that doesn’t fade a lick when I return my gaze to the spreadsheet in front of me.
“Good news?” Kurt asks.
Fuck.
I forgot I wasn’t sitting here alone. Wiping the smile from my face, I meet his gaze. “Parker—you met her the other day?—invited me to a barbecue tomorrow.”
“A barbecue left you lookin’ happier than a pig rollin’ in the mud?” He arches his brows. “That ain’t it.”
“It’s…a family barbecue.”
Kurt chuckles. “Now we’re gettin’ there. You’re goin’?”
“Oh, believe me, I’m goin’. But it scares the shit outta me.”
“Why?”
“Because these people are the closest thing she has to a family. One of them’s her partner. And the guy whose house it’s at? He’s the Chief of the Austin Ranger Division. You remember the Grace Stone case?”
Kurt frowns, his brows drawing together. “Kidnapping. Missin’ for a few years, right?”
“That’s the one. She’s his wife.”
Kurt whistles, a long, low sound. “Well, you’d better bring a good bottle of wine. Or flowers. Or both.”
“Both. Definitely both.”
My laptop dings with a new email, and the reality of what we’re doing comes rushing back into the room. “Got another batch of photos from Ed on the file share. Line forty-seven on the spreadsheet. The middle school on Vail Ave.”
Kurt gives me a short nod. “I’ll run through ‘em. See if there’s anything there. Go ahead and assign that one to me.”
“Done. The call center Ed inspected yesterday was a fuckin’ mess. Ain’t no way that should’ve passed after their remodel five years ago.”
“Well, shit. Bad enough to close it down?”
“Yup. They’re fixin’ to relocate more than a hundred employees for at least a month.”
While we’ve got ten other guys doing most of the actual inspections, I’m the one contacting every single building owner with the results. It’s fucking exhausting.
I run a hand through my hair with a sigh. “We’re almost through half the list, at least. Chief Alvarez approved overtime, so anyone willing to work the weekend will have plenty to do. I’ll take two of the standalone shops tomorrow before I head to the barbecue, and at least three on Sunday.”
Kurt opens the spreadsheet, scrolls through the list, and frowns. “What’re these eleven buildings down at the bottom in gray? They’re marked as ‘No Action Required’?”
“Buildings that burned sometime after they were inspected and never got rebuilt.” I switch back to the report I was reviewing before Parker’s text came in.
“You took them off the list?” he asks.
I shake my head with a small huff. “You think you can inspect an empty lot and find anythin’? Go right ahead. I’ll check out the arson investigators’ reports on ‘em next week. Until we know which occupied buildings need to be vacated, these aren’t a priority.”
“Maybe they should be.”
For a long moment, I stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s more concerned with buildings that burned years ago than with the safety of thousands of people.
I’m about to ask him, when he shrugs and turns back to his laptop. “Just a suggestion. You know what you’re doin’, Eliot. Always have. Always will.”
Parker
The bullpen is almost empty, and the station settles into the quiet rhythm of the night shift.
My back aches, and I still have to make two pecan pies before tomorrow’s barbecue at AJ and Grace’s house.
And then there’s Eliot. He’s fixin’ to meet the people I love most in this world, and my brain has decided there are approximately ten thousand ways that could go wrong.
Or right. Will they like him? Will he like them?
Will he think they’re too much? Will he take one look at all of us together and wonder what the hell he’s gotten himself into?
The only way to distract myself is more paperwork.
Nate’s been muttering for the past hour, which means he’s close to a breakthrough. Or a breakdown. It could go either way.
Thirteen years’ worth of annual reports. One fine for letting their LLC registration lapse for three days. The same names over and over and over again.
In the middle of the stack of papers from eight years ago, stuck to the back of yet another receipt for the filling fee, I find an addendum I missed the first time around.
“Well, hot damn.” I don’t realize I’ve said the words aloud until Nate’s typing stops. He’s staring at me, clearly waiting for an explanation.
“Lonestar spun up another LLC eight years ago. Redbud Capital Group.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “That name—”
“Is all over your spreadsheet. I’d say we’ve got ourselves a pattern.”
Redbud owns eight of the buildings Eliot and his crew are inspecting. Five have already been served with an order to vacate.