Chapter 17
Mitch floored the gas pedal, barely slowing for the turn onto Main Square. The second Izzy’s voice broke through the phone, frightened and shaking, his entire body had snapped into focus. Every protective instinct surged to the surface like a lit fuse.
She’d been threatened. By someone bold enough to confront her in broad daylight. In her alley.
He spotted the familiar pale green trim of Petal Pushers and pulled into the curb hard enough to jolt the truck. He was out and moving before the engine even quieted. The jolt to his ribs caused him to spit out, "Fuck," but he kept moving.
The front door was locked, but Izzy’s face appeared through the window almost instantly. She opened the door with shaking hands, her eyes wide and full of tears that hadn’t fallen yet.
Mitch stepped inside and immediately locked the door behind him.
She launched into his arms before he could say a word, clinging to him like she’d been holding herself together by sheer will until now.
His arms came around her, strong and steady, one hand cupping the back of her head, the other at her waist. Her shaking body pissed him off. She was so scared that she shook.
“You’re safe,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”
Her breath hitched against his chest. “He was just… standing there. Like he was waiting for me.”
He leaned back just enough to see her face. “Did he touch you?”
She shook her head quickly. “No. But he said, ‘Stop digging or you’re going to get burned worse than your flowers.’ Mitch, he knew . He knew everything.”
He swore under his breath and guided her gently to the counter stool, crouching in front of her. “You did exactly the right thing, Izzy. You got out. You called me. And now, I’m going to find out who the hell just threatened you.”
She nodded, still trembling, her fingers clenched tightly around his.
“Stay inside,” he said firmly. “Don’t open the door for anyone except me or Jayson. I’ll be right out back looking for evidence.”
She sniffed, and his anger grew to a boiling point.
Mitch stepped into the alley, every sense on alert.
His hand hovered near the grip of his concealed weapon, his eyes scanning every shadow.
It was a long, clean alley with only the garbage cans partially blocking the back end.
He took his phone out and turned on the flashlight.
There was a partial boot print in the sandy soil.
He snapped a photo of it and looked for a full image.
The man had only taken two steps into the alley.
No more prints. Mitch turned to look at the businesses across the street.
The courthouse stood in the center of Main Square.
All other businesses were built around the magnificent courthouse.
The post office stood to the left of Izzy's place.
To the right was the intersection of Main Square and Main Street.
He might be able to get camera footage from the courthouse or the post office.
He took a deep breath. The air was thick with late-afternoon heat, but he caught the trace of something else, faint, chemical. Like adhesive or melted plastic.
He moved to the edge of the alley near where Izzy had described the confrontation.
A dark scuff marked the brick near the front corner.
Nothing unusual by itself, but fresh. Too smudged to be useful, but the direction of the retreat was clear.
It looked as though the man turned hastily and scuffed his boot against the wall.
That alone wouldn't leave the odor of burnt plastic, but with the heaviness of the air, it could have been on his clothing and lingered.
As he followed the route around the corner toward the post office, past the greenhouse, he saw a partial print on the cement sidewalk from the alley.
Thank goodness for heavy moisture on the grass, it showed him the direction the man went.
He followed that direction past the greenhouse until he reached the alley between the greenhouse and the post office.
It was the alley all the Main Square businesses used to access the backs of their buildings.
It traveled both directions behind the post office and Izzy's place.
He followed the alley, looking for boot prints that would stop to get into a vehicle.
Another print was found on the corner behind the post office.
He found no others. He'd have to see about getting footage. A man in a hoodie would’ve stood out; it was far too hot for that kind of gear.
Mitch took photos of the scuff, the shoe prints, and the alley angle from multiple directions. Then he texted Jayson:
Possible suspect threatened Izzy. Alley between the shop and greenhouse. Sending pics. Check traffic cams and local feeds. See who left the square between 2:10–2:20 wearing a dark hoodie. Check Izzy's cameras to see where he went.
Back inside, Izzy was pacing. She stopped short when she saw him.
“Nothing concrete,” he said, crossing to her. “But I got some pictures. Jayson’s pulling feeds. I'm heading over to the courthouse to see if I can obtain access to their cameras.”
Izzy sat down slowly. “He was right here , Mitch. He could’ve… I don’t know what he wanted.”
“He wanted to scare you,” Mitch said, jaw tightening. “And it worked. But that’s where it ends.”
She looked up, eyes searching his. “What if he tries again?”
“Then I’ll be ready.” His voice was low, sure. “And next time, he won’t get away.”
He reached out, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “You’re not alone in this, Izzy. I’m going to stop him, or them, from hurting you.”
She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, exhaling slowly. “Okay.”
Mitch glanced out the glass front door toward the street. Business as usual. "You need to close the shop for the rest of today."
"But, I've already lost so..."
"I need to be out and about investigating, and I need to know you're safe. Right now, Sadie isn't an option as long as Travis is a suspect. So, you need to be at my place, where security is abundant."
He watched as she swallowed, took a deep breath, and resigned herself to the truth of his words.
"How will I ever get my business back if I can't be here?"
"I'll help you with that. Once all of this is settled. I've got some amazing friends here, and we'll all help you get Petal Pushers to be the busiest little shop in town. Hell, maybe the state."
She smiled but didn't laugh as he hoped she would. That was his next goal: getting her happiness back.