Caleb was quiet.His thumb traced a line across the table—back and forth, back and forth—the only movement in his otherwise still body.
"The property records," Harper continued, pulling out her phone to show him the photographs."Sattler's been buying up the town piece by piece since 2008.Shell companies, below-market sales, families who'd owned land for generations suddenly selling.One woman died six months after.Nova Boone.Heart attack at seventy-three."
"Could be a coincidence."
"Could be."
Neither of them touched that.
A barista called out an order.Chairs scraped.The espresso machine hissed.Harper's coffee grew cold in her hands while her stomach stayed too knotted to drink it.
"Your cover's thin now," Caleb said."Maybe not blown, but thin."
"I know."
"You need to stay visible.Keep being Holly Warren.Don't change your routine, don't act scared, don't suddenly leave town."He leaned forward slightly, dropping his voice."If you run, you confirm whatever he's thinking.But if you stay boring, stay harmless?—"
"He might decide he was wrong about me."
"It's a chance."
"And if he doesn't decide that?"
"Then we deal with it."
She studied his face.He meant it.Not as a platitude—as a plan.As something he'd already started working through in his head while she was still shaking at the library table.
Harper stared at her untouched coffee.Her hands had finally stopped trembling, but she could feel the adrenaline still humming beneath her skin, waiting to spike again.
"Ronan's back in three days," Caleb said."More options then.More backup.Until then, we're careful.You see anything strange—anyone watching you, following you, anything that feels wrong—you tell me immediately."
"And you?"
"I'll dig into Sattler's shell companies from my end.Cross-reference with what we have on the larger syndicate."He met her eyes."If he's connected, I'll find the proof."
"There's still Montgomery."
"Could be either of them.Could be working together.Or—" Caleb paused."Could be neither, and we're chasing the wrong threads entirely."
"You don't believe that."
"No.But I've been wrong before."He looked out the window at Main Street, at the people walking past with shopping bags and coffee cups, oblivious to the conversation happening ten feet away."The syndicate Isak was tracking—it's been operating for decades.That doesn't happen without serious local infrastructure.Someone in Blossom Springs is connected.Sattler fits the profile.So does Montgomery."
"So we keep digging."
"Carefully.Very carefully."He turned back to her."You've stirred something up today.Sattler didn't come to the library by accident.Someone told him you were there, and what you were looking at.That means he has eyes in places we don't know about."
"The librarian.Geri Crane."
"Maybe.Or someone else entirely.Could be a network—people who report to him, knowingly or not.Secretaries, clerks, anyone with access to public records requests."
His thumb stopped its tracing."We need to assume everything you do in this town is being observed.Every question you ask, every place you go."
Harper nodded.She should eat something—she'd had nothing but coffee since yesterday—but the thought of food made her stomach twist.
"I should get back to the bungalow," she said."Work on looking harmless."
"Harper."
