“Confirmation of what?”
He meets my eyes directly. “Eva.”
The room goes quiet in a way that has nothing to do with silence.
I lean back and gesture for him to continue.
“The bomb components,” he says. “The detonator wasn’t local. It was routed through a supplier we traced last month during the Kinsella audit.”
“That supplier was tied to Patrick’s outer ring,” I reply.
“Yes.”
My hand rests flat on the desk.
“Go on.”
Conor opens the folder and spreads photographs across the wood. Grainy warehouse footage. A shipment manifest. Serial numbers.
“The wiring signature matches one of Patrick’s former logistics engineers,” he says. “Name’s Keane. He disappeared two weeks after the explosion.”
“Disappeared how?”
“Relocated under a new identity in Spain. We confirmed through port entry logs and a private security contract filed three months later.”
“You’re certain.”
He nods once. “It’s him.”
I stare at the images and feel something shift, something that has been sitting unresolved for years finally locking into place.
Eva was a message.
Patrick and I were consolidating routes back then, pushing into territories his father once controlled, and I remember the call the night she died. He sounded almost sympathetic.Tragic. Terrible mistake.
He offered condolences before I even asked how he knew. “Why bring this now?” I ask.
“Our contact says Patrick’s starting to talk loose,” Conor replies. “He’s blaming you for destabilizing everything and mentioning old debts. People are listening.”
I close the folder and rest my palm on top of it.
Five years ago, I reacted fast and loud. I targeted the nearest rival faction, burned two warehouses, and left bodies where cameras could find them. It solidified my position and bought silence.
It also served someone else.
Patrick let me avenge the wrong enemy while he tightened his own hold.
My phone buzzes with a message from Riley, and I glance at the screen but don’t open it yet. “Keep digging,” I tell Conor. “I want the full chain. Every transfer. Every subcontractor.”
“You think this changes the timeline?”
I consider the question. “Yes. It does.”
He nods and gathers the remaining photos.
When the door shuts, I finally open her message.
On my way back.