If the redevelopment project involved those facilities, the stakes could be enormous.
A deliberate failure at the wrong moment could flood streets, disrupt water service, or create a public emergency that would justify contracts worth millions.
Riker looked at Moose.
“Do you remember the name of the company that won the emergency power contract?”
Moose frowned.
“Northstar, I think. Or a subsidiary.”
“Find the contract.”
“I'm not a researcher.”
“You're the only man I know who can locate a forty-year-old motorcycle part using nothing but a serial number and a grudge. You'll manage.”
Moose grunted and opened his phone.
Ten minutes later, he found a municipal procurement notice.
Northstar had recently been awarded a contract to modernize the reservoir's emergency power system. The contract had been approved under an accelerated procurement process after officials cited urgent safety concerns.
The public notice contained a list of subcontractors.
One of them was Voss Industrial Logistics.
Derek's company.
Riker read the document carefully.
The contract had been signed six weeks earlier.
The city had authorized an advance payment for equipment that had not yet been delivered.
A second payment had been approved for preparatory work at the railway station.
A third payment had been listed as an emergency contingency.
The amounts were large enough to attract attention, but the paperwork did not prove criminal conduct. Infrastructure projects often involved complicated payment schedules, and accelerated procurement was not necessarily illegal.
Still, the connection between the companies and the locations was undeniable.
“Send copies to the sheriff,” Riker said.
Moose did so.
Then he looked up.
“There's something else in the procurement record.”
“What?”
“The original project manager resigned three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“No explanation in the public notice.”
“Name?”
“Daniel Hargrove.”
Riker searched his memory.
He had heard the name at a community meeting the previous year. Hargrove had been a municipal engineer responsible for reviewing several infrastructure projects. He had raised concerns about cost overruns and incomplete safety inspections.
After that, he had disappeared from public view.
Riker looked at the contract again.
“Find out whether he still works for the city.”
Moose searched.
“His municipal email was deactivated. His professional registration is still active, but his office address is listed as vacant.”
“Can we contact him?”
“Not yet.”
“Then find out whether anyone else has tried.”
Moose continued searching.
A moment later, he stopped.
“Riker.”
“What?”
“The contract contains an attachment reference. It isn't included in the public file.”
“What's the title?”
Moose leaned closer to the screen.
“Project Lantern: Continuity and Contingency Plan.”
The wind seemed to stop.
Riker took the phone and studied the reference.
The document had been classified as a restricted operational attachment by the municipal procurement office. The public record gave no indication of its contents.
But its existence established something important.
Project Lantern was not merely a phrase overheard by a frightened child.
It was a documented part of the city's infrastructure contract.
And someone had gone to considerable trouble to keep its details out of public view.
Riker handed the phone back.
“We need Daniel Hargrove.”
Moose nodded.
“Agreed.”
“And we need to know whether Leo heard the name before or after they mentioned the floodgate.”
Moose looked toward the clubhouse, several miles away.
“Why?”
“Because if Project Lantern is an infrastructure plan, the factory might be a staging area for the work. But if the men were discussing it alongside a plan to kill us, they weren't talking about ordinary construction.”
Riker stood.
“Someone has turned a public contract into a secret. I want to know what they're hiding.”
At 5:03 p.m., the county sheriff arrived at the clubhouse with two investigators.
Sheriff Helena Brooks had served in law enforcement for twenty-two years. She was known for her careful interviews, her refusal to comment on unverified rumors, and her habit of asking the same question three different ways when she suspected someone was withholding information.
She had known Riker for several years.
They had disagreed about noise complaints, charity rides, and a few overly enthusiastic members who occasionally treated public roads like private racetracks.
But Riker had never lied to her.
When she entered the clubhouse and saw Leo sitting beside Linda, her expression softened.
“Hello, Leo. I'm Sheriff Brooks.”
The boy nodded nervously.
“Are you going to arrest Mr. Cross?”
“No.”
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“Not unless you have a very surprising confession to make.”
Leo blinked.
The sheriff pulled up a chair.
“I'm here because somebody may have put you and your mother in danger. I want to understand what happened, and I want to make sure you're safe.”
She asked him to describe the factory.
She asked what he had heard.
She asked how many people he had seen and whether he could recognize any of them.
She did not suggest answers.
When Leo described the silver ring, Sheriff Brooks asked him to draw what he remembered. He produced a rough sketch of a circle with a bird-like shape inside it.
The sheriff examined the drawing.
“Have you seen that symbol anywhere else?”
Leo shook his head.
“Not that I remember.”
She showed him several photographs of common corporate logos and insignias, but none matched closely enough to justify a positive identification.
Then Leo described the man who had come to the clubhouse.
The sheriff listened carefully.
“Did he tell you his name?”
“He said Martin Vale.”
“Did you know him?”
“No.”
“Had you ever seen him before today?”
“At the factory.”
“Are you certain?”
Leo nodded.
Sheriff Brooks made a note.
Then she asked about Darren.
Leo's answers became shorter.
He explained that Darren had moved into their home about a year earlier, after his mother began dating him. At first, Darren had been friendly. He brought groceries, repaired a leaking faucet, and took Leo to a baseball game.
Gradually, the friendly gestures had become conditions.
Darren wanted to know where Leo went, whom he spoke to, and what he told his mother. He became angry when she worked overtime or when Leo asked questions about his job.
Sometimes he shouted.
Sometimes he broke things.
On two occasions, Leo said, he had grabbed the boy hard enough to leave marks.
His mother had confronted him about it.
Darren apologized.
Then the behavior returned.
Sheriff Brooks did not interrupt.
When Leo finished, she asked whether he had told a teacher or another trusted adult.
He shook his head.
“Darren said nobody would believe me because I'm a kid.”
The sheriff's expression remained composed, but her voice became firmer.
“Adults are responsible for keeping children safe. If an adult hurts you, that is not your fault, and you do not have to handle it alone.”
Leo stared at the floor.
“Can you find my mom?”
“We're going to do everything we can.”
“Will you find her before dark?”
The sheriff did not lie.
“I don't know how quickly we'll find her. But we are treating her disappearance seriously, and we have people working on it right now.”
Leo's eyes filled.
Sheriff Brooks waited until he looked up.
“Do you know why your mother might have gone with Darren?”
“He probably told her I was missing.”
“That could explain why she was willing to speak to him. It doesn't tell us where they are now.”
The sheriff turned to her investigators.
One was assigned to contact the hospital and review its security footage. The other began preparing a formal missing-person report and requesting information about Darren's vehicle.
Before leaving the room, Sheriff Brooks spoke privately with Riker.
“I need you to understand something. If the situation involves an organized criminal operation, I cannot promise every person in the local system is uninvolved. But I can promise that I will not ask you to trust someone simply because they wear a uniform.”