CHAPTER 22 #7
"Someone who's been inside the network," Cole said. "Someone who knew about the origin chamber and the first wand. Someone who knew about the fourth priestess's obligation. Someone who's been at the meetings. Someone who's been helping us."
"Elena Hartley," Finn whispered. "She's the one who found the documentation about the swapped panel. She's the one who pulled the permits. She's the one who's been pushing for the network to expand faster."
"Or Captain Reyes," Cole said. "She's the one who's been coordinating with the FBI. She's the one who knew about Leo's APB. She's the one who's been watching us from the inside."
"Or someone we haven't met yet," Mara said. "A descendant we haven't called. A family we haven't contacted. Someone who's been waiting in the shadows, watching the network rebuild, planning their move."
Leo's voice came from the top of the spiral staircase. He'd followed them down—barefoot, silent, his quick eyes scanning the murals and the pedestal and the diary in Mara's hands.
"There's one other thing," he said. "Something I didn't tell you yet. Something I was trying to figure out how to say."
"What?"
"The last dead drop I picked up. The one that told me to burn your apartment. It included a photograph. A surveillance photo of you. And in the background of the photo, there was someone else. Someone I recognized. Someone who's been at every meeting you've had."
"Who?"
Leo's eyes met hers. "The lawyer. Elena Hartley. She was in the background of the photo. Watching you. Three weeks before the fire."
The bar was silent when they climbed back up the stairs.
Marcus had made fresh coffee. Finn had spread the testament and the diary and his notebook across the table.
Cole was standing by the window, his gray eyes fixed on the alley, his body rigid with the tension of a man who'd just discovered that the fire he'd been fighting was bigger than he'd thought.
Mara sat at the table. The diary was open in front of her. The pendant was pulsing—that strange, in-between rhythm that she was beginning to recognize as the sound of a truth half-revealed.
"Elena Hartley," she said. "Daniel's sister. The lawyer. The one who pulled the permits. The one who found the documentation about the swapped panel. She's been helping us from the beginning. Why would she want the flame?"
"Because her grandmother was Ruth's daughter," Finn said.
He was flipping through the testament, his fingers trembling with eagerness.
"The Hartleys were one of the original families in the network.
Daniel's grandfather—the one who bartered his labor for custom restraints in the 1920s—he was a client.
But his wife—his wife was named Catherine.
The same Catherine who was born in 1924.
The same Catherine who was Ruth's daughter. She married into the Hartley family."
"Which means Elena and Daniel are Ruth's great-grandchildren," Cole said. "They've been inside the network from the beginning. They've been waiting for the fourth priestess to rebuild everything so they could take it."
"But Daniel helped us," Marcus said. "He and his crew collapsed the tunnel. He's been providing men and equipment. He's been loyal."
"Maybe Daniel doesn't know," Mara said. "Maybe Elena's been keeping it from him. Maybe she's the one who inherited the grudge, and Daniel just thinks he's repaying a family debt."
"Or maybe they're both in on it," Leo said quietly.
"Daniel's crew had access to your apartment.
They were doing renovation work in the building.
The swapped electrical panel—you said it was an older model, a Bryant Electric from the 1970s.
That's the kind of thing a construction crew would have access to.
Daniel or one of his men could have swapped the panel.
Made it look like an accident. And if Elena told him to do it—"
"Then the fire was a Hartley operation from the start," Mara finished. "Not Santoro. Not Leo acting alone. The Hartleys. The family I trusted. The family I called. The family I was going to train as priestesses."
The pendant went cold. Colder than it had ever been. Cold enough to make her gasp.
"We need to be sure," Cole said. "Before we accuse anyone. Before we go to Reyes. We need proof."
"The dead drop," Leo said. "The one on 12th and Walnut. The next payment is supposed to be left at midnight tomorrow. If Elena is the client, she'll be there to collect. Her or someone she sends. If we stake it out, we can catch them."
Mara nodded slowly. "Tomorrow night. Midnight. The alley behind the Walnut Street Theater. We'll be there. And we'll find out once and for all who's been watching us. Who wants the flame. Who's been waiting for a hundred years."
"And then?" Marcus asked.
Mara touched the pendant. It was still cold—a steady, radiating cold that felt like a warning. But beneath the cold, there was something else. Something steady. Something certain. Something that felt like the beginning of an answer.
"And then we stop them."