Page 42 of Tracking Safety

“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.”