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"Yes."

"And the bakery owner?"

I already dislike where this is heading. "What about her?"

"The matter was straightforward," Winn says.

I stare directly at him. "No." His eyebrow rises and I lean back. "The matter stopped being straightforward a long time ago."

Vance watches me carefully. "What have you found?"

Finally — a useful question. I slide several reports across the desk: financial statements, complaint summaries, consulting records, investigation notes. The three men begin reading and the room falls quiet. Then Anslem exhales. "Interesting." The word sounds remarkably similar to Theo when he's worried, and I don't enjoy that realization.

Winn studies another page. "These are still theories."

"No. They're patterns."

"Patterns aren't proof."

"I know." The response leaves my mouth sharper than intended and nobody comments on it. Vance closes one file. "Explain your position."

I sit forward. "There are fraudulent tax filings." I point toward one document. "There are coordinated complaints, business connections linking unrelated reports, and financial irregularities that extend far beyond a single bakery." The room stays silent and I continue. "This isn't a local dispute."

Vance studies me. "You sound convinced."

"Because I am."

Anslem and Winn exchange a look, and neither seems particularly encouraged. Council investigations rarely reward certainty — they reward caution, and sometimes too much of it. Winn sets down the paperwork. "Or you're chasing shadows."

The statement lands, not because it offends me, but because I've considered the possibility myself. Every investigator has to. Otherwise you become dangerous. Vance folds his arms. "If you're wrong, Inspector, this could damage your career."

The warning hangs in the air — simple, direct, honest. I appreciate honest warnings. I just don't always listen to them. I glance toward the documents, then back at them.

"A woman's livelihood is being destroyed. Her business is collapsing, her reputation is collapsing, and somebody is actively targeting her." I point toward the files. "If I walk away because the investigation became inconvenient, I shouldn't be wearing this badge."

The words sit calmly and nobody speaks. Anslem eventually leans back. "You sound personally invested."

The observation isn't inaccurate, which is unfortunate. "I'm invested in doing my job."

Winn looks unconvinced and Vance looks thoughtful. Eventually the director nods — once, slowly. "Proceed carefully."

"I always do."

Winn snorts and nobody acknowledges it. The meeting ends shortly afterward. I leave with no additional support, no additional resources, no additional approval — just a warning. Somehow that feels exactly right.

By the time I reach Town Hall, Theo is already waiting. Naturally — the man seems physically incapable of arriving late. He leans against the front steps with a coffee cup in one hand and a folder tucked beneath his arm, and his eyes find me immediately, then narrow. "Oh no."

I stop. "What?"

Theo points directly at my face. "That expression."

"I don’t have an expression,”

He actually laughs. "You absolutely do. The thing has become part of your personality."

"It has not."

"It has." We enter the building and Theo keeps talking, because of course he does. "I've spent days observing it."