"Mr. Breslin wants this finished."
Marcus stood under the awning.
Twenty-three club members were inside for a monthly meeting.
He could feel them gathering behind him.
"What does finished mean?"
"Stop talking to investigators."
Marcus smiled faintly.
"That's your message?"
"That's your only warning."
Marcus looked toward the camera mounted over the gate.
Then back at the men.
"Could you say that again?"
The lead man frowned.
"What?"
"Little louder."
Realization arrived too late.
Red and blue lights appeared at the end of the block.
Detective Patel had arranged periodic patrols after earlier threats.
The four men turned.
Nobody from the Desert Kings touched them.
Marcus later admitted that required nearly supernatural restraint.
Two of the men were arrested on weapons charges.
One eventually cooperated.
He linked a security contractor to Anthony Breslin.
Another thread.
Another weight added to the case.
Meanwhile, Elena realized something Marcus had not.
Evidence alone would not protect the sixty-two families facing eviction.
The criminal investigation could take months.
Their housing problem was immediate.
Elena had worked in public relations before Rafael died.
Not high-level corporate PR.
She had handled communications for a regional labor nonprofit.
Press releases.
Community events.
Media contacts.
Campaign messaging.
For the first time since becoming a widow, she reopened an old address book.
"You need people looking at this."
Marcus stared at the list.
"Federal investigators are looking."
"I'm talking about everybody else."
"Media?"
"Yes."
"That could hurt the case."
"Then we coordinate."
She tapped the eviction notice.
"The families in my building can't wait for an indictment."
Marcus leaned back.
"What do you propose?"
"A public rally."
Snake groaned.
"No."
Elena looked at him.
"Why?"
"Protests turn into chaos."
"Badly planned protests turn into chaos."
Snake opened his mouth.
Elena held up one hand.
"I did this professionally."
Snake closed it.
Marcus smiled.
Elena continued.
"Not just tenants."
"Who else?"
"Workers."
She began counting.
"Families of injured workers. People displaced from other Harmon properties. Small business owners. Safety advocates. Housing groups."
"That's a lot."
"Good."
"And what do they say?"
"The truth."
She looked around.
"No accusations we can't support. No vigilante language. No threats. Every sign tied to a documented event."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"Media?"
"Local and national."
"Local stations have ignored this for years."
"Then we make them embarrassed to ignore it now."
Snake leaned toward Diesel.
"I like her."
Elena pointed at him.
"I heard that."
The rally was scheduled for a Saturday outside Harmon Development headquarters.
They expected four hundred people.
At dawn, there were already three hundred.
By seven thirty, there were more than eight hundred.
Families arrived carrying photographs.
Workers wore hard hats with names written across them.
Margaret Ellis, the elderly tenant whose car windows had been broken, sat in a wheelchair holding a sign that read:
23 YEARS IN MY HOME. I AM NOT A LINE ON A SPREADSHEET.
Teresa Ortiz held a framed photograph of Ramon.
Below it:
HE REPORTED UNSAFE EQUIPMENT. HE DIED THE NEXT DAY.
Carlos wore his work vest.
His sign read:
SAFETY IS NOT A LUXURY.
News vans filled the block.
Not every major network came.
Enough did.
Two national investigative programs.
The Associated Press.
Several large newspapers.
Independent documentary crews.