Chapter 22 - Shadows in the Sawdust
My workshop was located in a converted brick warehouse near the town’s old timber mill. It smelled perpetually of freshly cut maple, turpentine, and aged oak. Working with my hands had become my therapy; every sanded edge and dovetailed joint was a physical manifestation of order brought to chaos.
Around 2:00 PM, while I was carefully measuring cuts for a custom bookshelf, the bell above the workshop door chimed.
I didn't look up immediately, assuming it was local hardware supplier dropping off the walnut boards I’d ordered earlier in the week. "Just leave them by the workbench," I called out over the whine of the table saw.
"I'm afraid these aren't hardware supplies, Ethan."
The saw blade coasted to a halt, the sudden silence ringing sharply in my ears. I slowly straightened up, wiping my hands on a shop rag, and turned toward the front of the shop.
Standing near the display racks was a woman I had never expected to see outside of a maximum-security visiting room.
It wasn't Vanessa. It wasn't Grace.
It was Eleanor Vance—Colin and Marcus’s older sister, a federal appellate judge stationed in Sacramento whom internal affairs had previously cleared of any direct corruption during the initial sweep. She wore a tailored charcoal pantsuit that looked entirely out of place among the sawdust and shavings, and her expression was a mask of cold, professional composure.
"How did you find this place?" I asked, my hand sliding slowly toward the heavy rubber mallet resting on the edge of the workbench.
"Judicial clearance has its privileges, Mr. Reynolds," Eleanor said, stepping forward with measured, deliberate strides. Her eyes scanned the rustic interior of the shop before locking onto mine. "My brothers are behind bars. The family name is in ruins, and our assets have been seized down to the last penny. You think you won a decisive victory against the Vance syndicate."
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"They got what they deserved," I said, my voice dropping into a low, controlled register. "And if you're here to negotiate on their behalf, save your breath. There’s nothing to discuss."
Eleanor let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Negotiate? I didn't come here to negotiate with a small-town carpenter. I came to deliver a message from people far more powerful than Colin or Marcus could ever dream of contacting."
