Chapter 16
County inspector Roger Fenn was a precise man.
Luke could tell that by watching him from twenty feet away. He knew by the way Fenn moved between the cottages, methodical and unhurried, making notes with careful deliberateness.
“How long has he been here?” Luke asked Caleb as they watched from a distance.
“Forty minutes.” Caleb kept his voice low. “He’s already flagged three things on the new build. Says the setback from the property line isn’t compliant.” He paused. “It is compliant. We had it surveyed.”
Luke looked at the inspector, and his blood turned red hot.
The two of them needed to have a talk.
Luke had dealt with Fenn twice before on permit issues, and both times he’d come away with the same impression. Fenn was a man who hid behind his clipboard the way other men hid behind a badge.
Luke crossed the grass toward him.
Fenn looked up as Luke approached, his expression professionally neutral. “Mr. King.”
“Mr. Fenn.” Luke stopped beside him. “What seems to be the problem?”
Fenn consulted his clipboard. “Several things, actually. The setback from the northern property line appears noncompliant. I’m also seeing questions about the foundation depth on the eastern wall, and the electrical rough-in on unit two doesn’t match the approved plans.”
Luke kept his gaze fixed on the man. “We had the property surveyed before we broke ground. The setback is compliant.”
Fenn shrugged, unaffected. “My measurements suggest otherwise.”
“Then your measurements are wrong.” Luke kept his voice even. “I’ve been building in this county for fifteen years, Mr. Fenn. Hundreds of structures. I have never once had foundation depth flagged on a residential cottage build that was done to spec.”
Fenn made a note on his clipboard without looking up. “Nevertheless—”
“And the electrical rough-in matches the approved plans exactly.” Luke crossed his arms. “I have the documentation if you’d like to see it.”
“I’ll need to verify that independently.” He scribbled something on his notepad.
Luke thought about the last two weeks—about the permit delay that had come out of nowhere, the variance request that had been sitting on someone’s desk for a month without moving, and now a Wednesday afternoon inspection that no one had been notified about.
All of it felt deliberate and planned . . . like someone wanted to make their lives difficult. There were only two families he could think of who would do that—the Hendersons and the Hardings.
And the Hendersons didn’t have that clout in the area. They were known for being troublemakers. However, the Hardings did have influence and connections and money.
“Mr. Fenn.”
He looked up and pushed his wire-framed glasses higher on his nose. “Yes?”
“Do you, by chance, know the Harding family?”
Something flickered across Fenn’s face. His eyes tightened before his expression settled back into neutral. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”
“It’s just a simple question.”
“I know a lot of people in this county, Mr. King. That’s part of my job.” He looked back at his clipboard. “Now if you’ll let me finish my assessment—”
“Are you working for the Hardings? Did they ask you to come out here? To keep an eye on us as a personal favor?”
Fenn stopped writing, and his gaze met Luke’s. “That’s an interesting accusation.”
“It’s a question,” Luke said. “A question I’d love to hear the answer to.”
The inspector held his gaze, his cheek muscle twitching. Then he looked back at his clipboard and made one final note with a small, precise motion. “I don’t appreciate your insinuation.”
“I don’t appreciate people playing politics—or getting kickbacks.”
His gaze darkened. “I’ll have my full report to you by end of business Monday. You’ll have the opportunity to respond to each finding through the standard appeals process.”
“I look forward to it.”
Fenn tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Have a good afternoon, Mr. King.”
He walked back toward his county vehicle.
Caleb appeared at his shoulder. “Well . . . that looked interesting.”
“He didn’t deny a connection to the Hardings. Didn’t confirm it either.”
Fenn pulled from the gravel driveway and turned onto the road.
The door of the main house opened behind him, and Luke turned to find Naomi on the porch, Grace balanced on her hip. She had temporary custody of the six-month-old. The child was Richard Harding’s daughter.
Temporary was the word that kept Luke up at night.
Grace’s uncle, Dale, had filed for custody weeks ago, and the hearing was coming up soon.
On paper a blood relative outranked a houseful of people Grace wasn’t related to at all.
The fact that the Kings were the only family the baby had ever known might not count for much in front of a judge.
One more thing balanced on a knife’s edge. One more reason he couldn’t afford whatever Fenn and the Hardings were circling toward.
She looked at Luke. “Was that who I think it was?”
“Roger Fenn.”
Her jaw tightened. “That’s what I thought. I called Kori. I guess she’ll be getting here too late.”
Kori Hutchins was not only the newest attorney in town, but she was also dating Wyatt.
“I’d love to hear her take on the situation,” Luke said.
Because he needed to nip this problem in the bud.
As Wes stepped away to call one of his contacts, Jenna remained at the table. Remington was with her, and she felt safer with the dog around.
She’d always wanted to get a dog when she and Luke had been together. Luke hadn’t been in favor. He’d said they had enough on their plates with the kids, and she couldn’t argue that.
Still, dogs added so much to life. They were instant companions and protectors.
Maybe one day, she’d finally get the dog she’d always wanted.
She turned her glass in slow circles on the table and watched the street through the window.
Only half of her sandwich was gone, and she’d hardly tasted any of it. She forced herself to take another bite before setting the sandwich down again.
Think about something else besides almost being killed.
Luke’s face slammed into her mind.
She’d had two years to imagine what seeing him again might look like. She’d run through their “reunion” so many times that she thought she’d accounted for every version—his anger, his coldness, his refusal to hear her out.
What she hadn’t accounted for was the way his composure had cracked for that one unguarded moment. She hadn’t considered the raw look underneath his expression that he’d put away so fast she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.
Sitting in this restaurant, she understood that whatever happened next—whatever Wes found out, whatever Luke decided, whatever the Barone organization had or hadn’t sent to Blue Ridge Hollow—the hardest part of coming back wasn’t the danger.
It was this. Being close enough to see what she’d done to Luke and not being able to fix it.
The chair across from her scraped back.
She looked up. Wes settled into his seat, his grim expression setting off all her senses.
Her back muscles tightened. “Tell me.”
He pressed his lips together before starting. “I reached out to two people I trust, former colleagues who still have eyes on the Barone organization.”
“And?”
“Roderick is dead. That part is accurate.” He paused.
“I have a feeling there’s a ‘but’ in there . . .”
He blew out a breath. “There is. As you know, for the past several years, Vito was thought to be suffering from dementia.”
“That’s what Roderick told me. He seemed really concerned and sad about it.”
Wes tilted his head and offered a wry expression. “It was all an act. It actually appears he’s in his right mind . . . and he’s been calling all the shots this whole time.”