Page 147 of Keller

Vin leans forward, elbows on the polished wood. "I told you it wouldn't stay limited to the fourth quarter. So we're clear."

"Within the parameters they established, yes."

Ridge nods once. "This could have gone differently."

"It could have." Patricia slides papers into her briefcase. "The scope remained narrow. That's not always the case with federal inquiries of this nature."

Vin glances at me, then back to Ridge. "For the record, the plan to challenge Agent Mercer's objectivity was shelved after Keller suspended the tables. We had to recalibrate."

The words land in my chest.After Keller suspended the tables.Like it was a chess move.

Patricia stands, smoothing her jacket. "Gentlemen, unless there's anything else, I think that concludes our business."

Ridge rises to shake her hand. "Thank you, Patricia."

The door clicks shut behind her, and silence settles over all six of us. The striped light has shifted, the gold bars now climbing the far wall.

Vin clears his throat. "We got lucky. Another few weeks of digging, and they might have widened the scope."

Lucky.Nothing about this ordeal has been lucky.

An expanded scope would have meant questions we couldn't answer cleanly, and gray areas that exist because the world doesn't sort itself into neat columns of right and wrong. Our father operated in those spaces. So do we, whether we admit it or not.

Ridge straightens his cuffs. "It's behind us, now."

Federal scrutiny leaves residue and invisible marks on every document they touched, every name they flagged, every pattern they noticed but didn't pursue. Nothing examined under that kind of attention is ever entirely erased.

We're clear, but we're not clean. We never have been, we're just good and covering our tracks.

My phone dings with a notification. I pull it out to see a text from West about the new chips order. Then I see the notification, reminding me of the voicemail from last night that I still haven't listened to.

I stare at it for another moment and then put my phone down. Ridge is saying something about next quarter, about rebuilding the player roster. Vin responds with projections and timelines.

I'm not listening.

"Keller." Ridge's tone sharpens. "Any thoughts?"

"No, I'm good. I'm glad we all survived this without the nuclear option." I'm still bitter he made me have to flex. He should have respected my request when I came to him.

I push back from the table. "I need to head out, though."

Ridge studies me, that assessing look he's perfected over years of reading rooms and reading people.

"Everything good?"

"Fine." I grab my jacket from the chair back.

I don't wait for his response. The hallway stretches ahead, my footsteps echoing on marble. In the elevator, I click her voicemail and listen, finally. I can't escape it forever.

I turn off the phone after listening. She sounded very professional, almost detached. I roll my shoulders and consider what she might have to talk to me about.

Hearing her voice pulled at something inside of me that I put on a shelf. Do I want to talk to her? I text instead.

Got your voicemail. Let me know when you want to meet.

Her response comes before the elevator reaches the lobby.

Neutral Ground, the coffee shop on Magazine tonight — 7?