Page 73 of Spock’s Snare

No. Not even close.

“Everything will be,” I tell him. “Drive carefully.”

“You too, sweetheart.”

I end the call before he can ask another question. Dad is safe for now, and that’s one less thing gnawing at me.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, I pull up my contacts again.

The electrician answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Chloe. What’s up?”

“Morning, Mateo. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure.”

I merge into the right lane, keeping my eyes on the traffic ahead as I organize my thoughts. I don’t want to make accusations—not until I know exactly what happened—but after everything I’ve learned about Blackwood, I’m done dismissing my instincts.

“Have you heard about any problems with the electrical wiring at Riversedge Apartments?”

“Problems?” Mateo repeats. “What kind of problems?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”

“No one’s called me.” His tone sharpens with concern. “We finished there two days ago. The city inspector completed the inspection and signed off on everything.”

“That’s what I thought.”

I remember checking the paperwork myself. The electrical inspection passed. There shouldn’t have been any reason for Blackwood to tear open a finished wall.

“What happened?” Mateo asks.

“Steven Blackwood ripped out a section of drywall in one of the units. He claims the wiring was installed incorrectly and that the wall had to be opened so it could be fixed.”

“He did what?”

The disbelief in his voice confirms what I already suspect.

“He tore out the drywall,” I repeat. “When I questioned him, he insisted there was a problem with the wiring.”

“That doesn’t make sense. If there was a problem, he should’ve called me before touching anything. And if it was serious enough to start tearing out walls, why didn’t he report it to you?”

“Those are both excellent questions.”

I turn onto my street. The familiar row of homes passes my window as Mateo mutters something under his breath.

“I can head over there and check it out,” he says. “I’ll need to see exactly what Blackwood’s talking about.”

“I took photos of the exposed wiring. Let me send those to you first.”

I pull into my driveway, tap the button clipped to my visor, and wait for the garage door to rise. By the time I ease my truck inside, Mateo is still trying to work through possible explanations.

“Could be something got damaged after we left,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “Or maybe Blackwood noticed something the inspector missed, but I don’t know why he wouldn’t contact me.”

I put the truck in park. “Give me a second.”

Keeping the call connected through the speakers, I pull out my phone and find the pictures I took at Riversedge. I select the clearest shots, including several close-ups of the wiring and one wider image showing the entire section Blackwood demolished.