Chapter 21
Mitch paced the length of the living room, his phone pressed tightly to his ear, as Jayson’s voice filtered through the line.
“I ran that Trailblazer again,” Jayson said. “Found another sighting, this time parked near Delilah’s salon three days ago.”
Mitch stopped short. “Delilah’s place?”
“Yeah. Could be a coincidence, but I doubt it.”
A cold knot formed in Mitch’s gut. “Send me the clip.”
“It’s already on your laptop. And here’s the kicker: remember the fake delivery footage? I looped in facial recognition software with the hoodie guy, just for grins. Even with the hoodie and the cap, we got a partial match.”
Mitch’s breath stilled. “You’re kidding.”
“Ninety-two percent probability,” Jayson said. “It’s Travis Fielder.”
Mitch let out a long breath through his nose, pressure building at his temples. “Son of a bitch.”
“I’m still cross-referencing it with DMV photos and old school yearbooks. But here’s something else, I blew up the footage and noticed something tucked in his back pocket.”
Mitch dropped into his chair at the dining room table and opened the new file. The still frame showed the man walking away from the shop in the green vest. A smudge of white paper peeked from the back pocket. Jayson had zoomed in and circled it in red.
“That’s a folded delivery slip,” Mitch said under his breath.
“Right,” Jayson replied. “Which begs the question, why carry the forged invoice out of the shop? Or did he steal one to make it look like Izzy was incompetent?”
“Because it was always a prop,” Mitch said slowly. “A piece of misdirection. He wanted someone to see it. On camera. He wanted to look like a real delivery driver. So if we traced it later, it would throw us off.”
“Ballsy,” Jayson said. “And dumb. But Izzy found a delivery slip on her desk.”
"Yeah. So then I'm wondering if he stole one."
Mitch stared at the frozen frame, anger burning low in his gut. “He’s overconfident. Arrogant. He thinks he's untouchable.”
“He also knew there were cameras, Mitch,” Jayson added. “I’d bet Sadie told him. Or he saw us installing them.”
Mitch leaned back, piecing it together. “So, he walks in with a fake delivery, hoping that if someone checks the tapes, they see a ‘random supplier.’ Meanwhile, he’s probably planting something. Bugging the shop. Or just scoping out how far he can push.”
“He’s getting bold,” Jayson agreed. “And we’ve got enough now to start putting pressure on him.”
Mitch nodded, his jaw tightening. “Don’t tip our hand yet. Let me dig into his background a little more. See if there’s something we missed.”
“You got it,” Jayson said. “Call me when you’re ready.”
Mitch ended the call and stared at the paused image on his screen. Travis had made a critical mistake, not just forging a slip, and not just walking into the shop pretending to belong.
He’d underestimated Mitch.
He stood and looked toward the hall as the bathroom door opened. Izzy sauntered around the corner looking fresh as a daisy. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the crown of her head. Her face was soft, and her eyes were clear. She said she'd slept well last night, it showed.
She trusted him so much that she was able to put aside all this turmoil and get some sleep.
Now it was time to prove that trust was well-placed and finish this.
Mitch pushed back from the table, his thoughts racing faster than his pulse. Every time he peeled back a layer, Travis looked guiltier. And now that the footage lined up, the Trailblazer sightings, the forged slip, it was becoming undeniable.
But he still didn’t have enough to take to the sheriff. Not yet. This needed to be airtight. No room for reasonable doubt. Because if Travis caught wind that they were onto him, he’d vanish. Or worse, he’d escalate.
He grabbed a notepad and started listing what they had:
· SUV sighting at Delilah’s
· Hoodie footage match: 92% confidence
· Forged delivery slip, possibly a stolen delivery slip
· Key access likely traced to Izzy’s spare
· Video of back entrance entry, no forced access
· Pattern of sabotage escalating over weeks
Then he started a second column:
Next steps
· Pull Travis’s employment history
· Compare handwriting sample from past case
· Interview Ms. Jillie quietly
· Look for digital footprints, any online activity?
· Determine if Delilah knows more than she’s letting on
He tapped the pen against the table. Delilah. Her name stuck in his mind like a sliver. If Travis had parked near her salon recently, and if Sadie had been at work during that shift, there was a chance Travis had so much more going on than Sadie was aware of.
Izzy walked toward the kitchen, barefoot and quiet, reaching for her coffee cup. Mitch crossed over and lightly touched her elbow.
“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I feel better now that I actually slept.”
He gave her a soft smile. “I noticed.”
She tilted her head. “What are you working on?”
“Trying to stitch this all together.” He motioned toward the table. “Travis is connected. I’m sure of it. We’ve got surveillance, the SUV, even a partial facial match. But I need one more thing to make it stick.”
Her eyes darkened. “I want to help.”
He hesitated, then gave a slight nod. “Actually… I could use your memory. Think back. Has anyone else come in asking strange questions? Anyone new around the shop the last few weeks, delivery people, maybe someone just browsing?”
Izzy leaned against the counter, thinking. “Besides the fake Clearway guy? Not that I can recall. Most of our customers are locals or regulars." Her brows pinched together, "Except…”
She swallowed. “There was a guy who came in about three weeks ago asking if we do large event arrangements. Like for fundraisers or political dinners. But when I asked what date he needed them for, he didn’t have an answer.
Just said he was ‘gathering quotes.’ I remember thinking he didn’t look like someone planning a fundraiser. ”
“What’d he look like?” Mitch asked sharply.
“Older. Mid-forties maybe. Taller than you. Wore a ball cap and sunglasses, inside. He kept his voice low, like he didn’t want to be overheard.”
Mitch’s protective instincts flared. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“I didn’t think it was anything. He left after a minute or two. Didn’t even take a brochure.”
Mitch scribbled another note. “That could’ve been Travis sending someone to scout. Or it was him in disguise. He’s bold enough.”
She nodded, her mouth pressing into a thin line. “What do we do next?”
He took a steadying breath. “We close this loop. Quietly. I’ll stop by the library and talk to Sadie. Discreetly. I need to know if Travis said anything about the cameras or the keys to her.”
“That will tip her off.”
“It might. Depending on her reaction, we'll confront Travis before he knows he’s cornered.”
Izzy’s shoulders stiffened. “Be careful.”
He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I will. I’m not taking any more chances.”
As she looked up at him, something unspoken passed between them, an understanding deeper than words. He could see it in her eyes. The fear was still there, yes, but so was the fight.
"Thank you."
He kissed her lips lightly and pulled her in for a hug. "I think you should stay here today and not go into Petal Pushers."
"I can't do that." She pulled away and looked up at him.
"Customers are already slow to come back after the fire.
I haven't done any advertising because I don't have my inventory where it needs to be, so only a few brave folks are coming in.
I can't lose the few customers I have by not being open. Consistency, I need consistency."
"You need to be safe."
"Ms. Jillie will be in today."
He took a deep breath and squeezed her tightly. "I don't like it, but I admire you, Iz."
She wasn’t running.
And neither was he.