By four o’clock, the sun was beginning to drop behind the Santa Monica hills, casting long shadows across the gravel yard of the construction office. Vanna pushed open the side door, the smell of fresh cedar and diesel exhaust hanging heavy in the warm air.
Todd Higgins stood by the metal filing cabinet, his canvas work cap pulled low over his forehead as he sorted through a stack of invoices. He looked up, his face hardening slightly before he managed a polite nod.
“John is over at the Pacific Palisades site checking on a concrete pour,” Todd said, his voice flat.
“I can wait,” Vanna said, stepping toward the desk. “He said he had some zoning documents he wanted me to look over.”
“Most of the zoning files are locked up,” Todd said, shifting his weight. “Robert Vance came by late yesterday and took three of the main folders to his office.”
Vanna stopped, her hand hovering over the back of the wooden chair. “Robert took them?”
