Large, round figures were being sent to shell companies with names like Apex Consulting and Riverfront Partners.

“Look at the dates of these transfers,” I said, pointing to the screen.

“They happen on the first Tuesday of every month,” Nora observed.

“And look at the recipients,” I said, my heart beating faster.

I pulled up a public directory of city officials on my phone.

“Apex Consulting is registered to the brother-in-law of the chief building inspector,” I said.

Nora looked at me, her eyes widening.

I scrolled down the list of disbursements, matching the transaction dates with city council votes.

Every major zoning permit the Thornes had received over the last five years had been preceded by a massive transfer.

“It’s a payroll,” I whispered.

“They aren’t just bribing one or two people,” Nora said, leaning closer.

“They have the entire city administration on their ledger.”

I stared at the name of the inspector who had signed the closure order on my bakery.

There it was, listed next to a payment made just three days ago.

Before I could speak, the heavy metal door at the front of the warehouse rattled violently.