Page 116 of Bennett

“Looks that way,” Mac said. His tone didn’t change, but there was a spark of momentum in it now. “He just didn’t count on Rick Nolan spilling his guts.”

Of course, he didn’t. People like Duke never saw the little guys as threats until they talked.

Mac’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then hit speaker. “Gabe. You’re on.”

“Roger that.” Gabe’s voice came through, thin but steady. “I’ve got confirmation. Hess and Duke were in contact through two separate subcontractor channels. Both tie back to Duke’s holding company—Consolidated Eastwood. That’s your financial trail.”

Matthew looked up from his pile of printouts, tapping a sheet with the back of his pen. “That checks out. One of these shell companies—Dawson Modular—shows a materials invoice marked as aconsultation fee. Date lines up with the week the wiring at Winslow Crossing got wrecked.”

He glanced at Bennett. “And guess whose name’s signed at the bottom.”

Bennett’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess…Fred Hess.”

Matthew gave a single nod. “Bingo.”

Bennett leaned forward, his jaw tight. “That’s not just a connection, that’s a breadcrumb straight into sabotage.” Adrenaline kicked in harder now. “That enough to move, Gabe?”

“Close,” the sheriff replied. “We need one more link. Something direct—an email, a recorded call, a signed work order, this time with Duke’s name on it. Otherwise, the guy can claim Hess went off the rails.”

Typical. Bennett’s jaw clenched. Slime like Duke never got their hands dirty. They paid someone else to swing the hammer, then cried innocent when things broke.

Fred Hess signing an invoice from a shell company tied to Duke’s holding company put Duke one step away. It showed a financial connection and a pattern of coordination, but without proof that Duke ordered the sabotage or knew exactly what Hess was doing, Duke could still claim plausible deniability.

Bastard.

Bennett exhaled slowly, tension tightening across his shoulders. “So, Hess was on the payroll, even if Duke wasn’t the one handing him the matches.”

Matthew nodded. “Exactly. Duke can still play dumb, unless we find something that proves he gave the order.”

Carter pulled up another screen. “I’m already inside one of Duke’s vendor systems. If he emailed Hess directly, even once, there’ll be a digital trail. Might not be explicit, but enough cross-referencing dates and activity could show intent.” He glanced at Mac. “Give me an hour, maybe less if I don’t get interrupted.”

Mac gave a sharp nod. “Dig deep. If there’s even a whiff of direct contact, I want it flagged and printed.”

Carter grinned faintly. “On it, bossman.”

Bennett’s jaw flexed as Carter worked. He hated how close they were without having the last damn thread to pull it tight. Duke had built enough distance between himself and the mess to keep his hands clean, while letting guys like Hess do the dirty work.

But that was fine. Because Bennett wasn’t going to stop until they tied the noose. And until Laurel was safe, none of it would be over.

“Gabe,” Bennett said. “What about Hess? Do you have him?”

“Negatory,” Gabe answered. A frustrated grunt followed. “Wasn’t at his house or office. We’ve got an APB out. We’ll haul him in.”

Bennett’s gut tightened. Too many moving parts. Too much room for Hess to get desperate.

And Laurel was alone.

His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text. He pulled it out, hoping to see her name, instead his gut clenched.

Unknown number again.

Theo.

Dammit, now wasn’t the time. He almost shoved the phone back in his pocket, until the text message registered in his head. It was just one line.

Get back to Laurel. Now. She’s in trouble.

Bennet sat up. His pulse stopped, then surged, fast and brutal.

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