Page 47 of Only the Devil

“Of the candidates we interviewed, you’re by far the most qualified. I’d like your input on how we should structure this arrangement.”

I lean back slightly, fingers drumming against the chair’s armrest. “If we’re being straight, then I need full disclosure on threats and risks. Security’s only as effective as the intelligence behind it.”

“Of course.” She smooths her skirt, a nervous gesture. “Our insurance company has been...encouraging us to take this step.”

“Encouraging how?”

“They’ve made it clear that our current coverage might be...inadequate given our risk profile.”

That’s the spin she gave me in the interview. “What kind of risks are we talking about? Specific threats against Mr. Sterling? Against the company?”

Her fingers pause in their paper-shuffling. “We haven’t received any written threats, no. But there are investors who are...unhappy with recent performance. Some people don’t understand that high-risk investments come with the possibility of total loss.”

She’s choosing her words too carefully. In my experience, when people work that hard to avoid saying something directly, it’s because the truth is worse than they want to admit.

“Any of these unhappy investors escalate beyond angry phone calls?”

“There have been some heated conversations, yes. Legal threats—through attorneys, you understand. But nothing...physical.”

The pause before “physical” tells me everything. Someone’s made threats, just not ones they can prove in court.

“What about online? Social media, forums, anything like that?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Another careful nonanswer.

I shift forward, letting some steel enter my voice. “Ma’am, I can’t protect you from threats I don’t know about. If someone’s been making noise—even informal noise—I need details.”

She meets my gaze for the first time since we started talking about threats, and I see something that looks like fear.

“There was an incident at Mr. Sterling’s residence last month. Someone threw a brick through his front window. No note, no message, but…” She trails off.

“But you think it’s connected to the investor complaints.”

“We can’t prove it, but the timing…” She shrugs helplessly.

Now we’re getting somewhere. A brick through the window is personal. It’s someone who knows where Sterling lives, someone angry enough to take physical action.

“Any idea which investor might’ve been responsible?”

“Mr. Sterling has asked me not to speculate.”

“I’m not asking you to speculate. I’m asking if you have suspects.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can see her internal debate playing out. Finally, she speaks. “There’s a group that’s been particularly vocal. The attorney representing them has been...aggressive in his communications. It’s my understanding they do not have a case, but there is a high level of discontent.”

That matches what Daisy told me about Reed’s situation. A class-action suit means multiple investors, which means multiple potential threats.

“I’ll need names. Contact information. Copies of any threatening communications.”

“I’ll have to check with Mr. Sterling?—”

“Ms. Weaver.” I keep my voice level but let authority creep in. “Either you want professional security, or you want someone to sit in your lobby and look intimidating. Professional security requires full cooperation.”

She nods quickly. “Yes, of course. I’ll get you everything we have.”

“Good. Now, what about physical security? The building itself?”

“There are cameras on each corner outside, but they’re not monitored actively. The town has traffic cameras at the intersection.”