Page 36 of Bear and Order

No hesitation. No thought. Just certainty, immediate and absolute. Brock goes still, as though he didn't intend to say it aloud. Too late. The words settle between us calmly. The street disappears, the town disappears, everything disappears, and there is only Brock — those steady amber eyes, the hand moving toward me, the warmth pulling the distance between us smaller without either of us deciding to allow it.

My breath catches. So does his. His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, then returns to my eyes. The moment stretches and tightens, another inch closer, maybe less, maybe more —

The door behind us swings open.

"Well." Theo's voice cuts through the moment like a blade. We jump apart immediately. He looks from me to Brock, then back again, taking in the hush that follows with an unhurried patience. Like someone who understands everything and is choosing to be generous about it.

He clears his throat. Once. Slowly. "I have connected the financial trails to another business."

Theo sighs. "You should probably come inside." His eyes flick between us one final time. "I am going to pretend I didn't see whatever that was."

Heat floods my face. Brock looks equally pleased with the interruption, which is to say not pleased at all. Theo gestures toward the office. "The fraud trail just got considerably bigger."

The words draw my attention back — back to the case, back to the paperwork, back to the disaster waiting inside. I take a slow breath and follow Theo through the door.

16

BROCK

Theo's office somehow becomes even messier. I wouldn't have believed that was possible when we first arrived. Now papers cover nearly every available surface — financial statements beside tax records, complaint reports overlapping delivery logs, merchant filings occupying half a chair. Theo appears completely at home in the chaos. Unfortunately, because every time he finds something, he creates three new questions.

"Interesting."

I look up immediately. Theo only says that when something is wrong. "What?"

He doesn't answer right away — the man never answers right away. Instead he pulls another document closer, then another, his eyes moving rapidly across the pages before a slow grin appears. I don't like that grin. Not during investigations.

"What did you find?" I ask.

Theo points toward a file. "The woman with the bread complaint."

Mrs. Collins. The customer who claimed the flour used to bake her bread was sour — the complaint that first revealed the inconsistencies. Theo taps the page. "Look here."

I move beside him. The document details business services — consulting work, contract management, vendor oversight. Nothing unusual at first. Then Theo points toward a company name, and I recognize it immediately. The same agency appears elsewhere in our files. My pulse quickens. "Where did you find that?"

Theo grins. "I keep telling people paperwork talks." He reaches for another file. "The transportation company." A second document lands beside the first, and my attention narrows. The same agency. The exact same agency, appearing in complaint records, vendor records, consulting contracts. The same name surfacing repeatedly across documents that should have no reason to share a connection.

"What exactly do they do?" I ask.

Theo leans back. "Business consulting."

"Specifically."

"Operations support. Vendor management. Financial consulting. Contract negotiations." He studies another page, then whistles softly.

"That's interesting."

"What?"

"The consultant assigned to these accounts." He passes me the paper.

The name catches my attention immediately. Marissa Holloway. The room falls quiet. Theo watches me carefully, as we're both reaching the same conclusion. The same dangerous conclusion.

Eventually Theo exhales. "That's not enough."

I nod, because he's right. The connections exist, the links exist, the opportunity exists. But evidence? Not yet. Not enough to accuse anyone, not enough to present, not enough to dismantle someone's life over. The realization is frustrating. The trail keeps circling the same point, yet every time we approach it, proof slips just out of reach.

Theo folds his arms. "What are you thinking?"