Chapter 23
Mitch crouched by the back door of Petal Pushers, his tools spread out on the concrete, while Jayson held the flashlight steady overhead. The late morning sun filtered through the alley, but it wasn't enough light for installing locks.
"Old locks are trash," Jayson muttered, rattling one loose in his free hand. "Anyone with a bump key could get in.”
“Or someone who had a real key,” Mitch said tightly.
Jayson gave him a sidelong glance but said nothing. They didn’t need to say Travis’s name again. It hung heavy in the air, just like the tension between the bricks.
Mitch slid the new deadbolt into place and tightened the screws. He moved on to the doorknob, hands practiced but mind spinning. He kept seeing the empty hook in the greenhouse. The skewed mat. Izzy’s pale face when she’d whispered, “He came back.”
Damn it. He should’ve anticipated another move. That’s what pissed him off most, being one step behind. He prided himself on always being ahead of threats. But this time, the enemy knew the layout, the schedule, the weaknesses.
“You okay?” Jayson asked, brow raised.
“Not until this guy’s in cuffs,” Mitch replied, voice sharp.
Jayson nodded. “Fair. But we’re close. Too many coincidences stacked together. We just need a little more to push it over the edge. A confirmation of who it actually is. His face as he enters.”
Mitch finished the back lock and stood, rubbing his palm across the back of his neck. “Did you hear anything back on Travis’s work history?”
Jayson tapped his phone. “Yeah. Spotty employment. Mostly under-the-table stuff. He worked at his cousin’s auto shop for a few months after high school but left after a disagreement.
Couple of cash gigs, construction, odd jobs.
But nothing steady in the last year. Guess where he was fired from a few months ago? ”
Mitch’s jaw tightened. “No clue.”
"He worked as night security at a warehouse in Summerville."
Mitch nodded. "That's why he decided to freelance as a security agent."
“Bingo.”
Mitch blew out a breath, gears turning. “Why’d he get fired?”
“According to the notes HR kept, he missed shifts, got confrontational, then would show up at odd hours when he wasn't scheduled.”
"Doing what?"
Jayson shrugged. "No notes on that."
“And Sadie never mentioned anything about Travis' spotty work history to Izzy.”
“Maybe Sadie doesn't even know. He started his own company. Sadie could think he's entrepreneurial.”
Mitch shook his head. “True. Or she might know more and is embarrassed.”
Jayson shrugged. “Everybody’s hiding something.”
Mitch reached for the new lockset for the front door, frustration humming beneath his skin. “Let’s get this done.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Then Jayson said, “You know, he was seen by that courthouse camera again, last night. Just standing across the street from the shop. Not doing anything. Just watching.”
Mitch’s blood turned to ice. “Stalking her in plain sight.”
“Yeah,” Jayson said. “Like he’s daring us to catch him.”
Mitch’s grip tightened on the screwdriver. He finished the install, then stood and faced Jayson. “We lay the trap. We stop waiting for him to strike. We get ahead of him.”
“You thinking bait?”
“Something like that,” Mitch said. His gaze shifted toward the shop counter where Izzy worked with Ms. Jillie, arranging flowers. She turned her head as if she could feel him watching her and offered a small smile.
It settled something in him. She smiled. Her trust. It made him feel whole.
“This ends soon. One way or another.” Mitch quietly said to Jayson.
Mitch and Jayson moved their tools and locks to the front door.
Mitch crouched down and began removing the door handle and lock from the old wooden door.
He began working on the lock as Jayson removed the strike plate and pulled the new locks from the package.
The clink of metal tools echoed in the quiet shop as Ms. Jillie hummed faintly in the background, arranging lilies and hydrangeas at the display table.
Izzy worked on red roses in a vase. When she handled the flowers, she looked peaceful and happy.
This was her happy place. At least it used to be.
“She’s lucky you caught this,” Jayson said under his breath. He looked closely at the old lock in his hand. “The frame was scored. Someone’s used that lock a lot, or picked it.” He held it out to Mitch.
Mitch examined the damaged lock, running the pad of his thumb gently over the scratches on it.
“Yeah. And they’re getting bold. Watching from across the street, creeping around the greenhouse.
This guy thinks he owns the place.” He pulled his thumb away and showed it to Jayson.
Small shards of golden metal gleamed on his thumb. "This is fresh."
Someone approached the front door, and a chipper voice called out, “Morning!”
Mitch stiffened. He looked over his shoulder just as Noah stepped in, balancing a cardboard box in one arm and flashing an overly friendly grin.
“Got a surprise delivery,” Noah said. “Said it was urgent, fresh orchids from McHenry’s. They didn’t say why it didn’t come in with yesterday’s batch.”
Mitch stepped back as Noah entered the shop. Izzy smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. She met Noah at the wooden checkout counter near the middle of the room. "Thank you. That's strange, I didn't order these."
Noah chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “You didn't?”
"No."
Noah handed her a slip of paper and noticed Izzy's fingers shaking as she took it. He watched as she read the paper, and he saw her swallow. Mitch stepped closer.
"You didn't order these?"
"No. The invoice says I did. But I didn't. Orchids need attention. And I don't have any orders to fill with these."
Noah shrugged. "I don't know what to say. They asked me to deliver them."
Izzy swallowed again but said, "Okay. Do you mind putting them in the cooler?"
Noah shook his head, "Not at all."
Noah carried the container to the cooler. Izzy stared into his eyes for a moment. She shook her head, "I didn't order them." Her brows bunched, and she looked at Ms. Jillie, "Did you order them, Ms. Jillie?"
"No, honey. I only order when you ask me to."
Noah returned from the cooler and set Izzy's pruning shears on the countertop. "You left your favorite pair of pruners in the cooler, Izzy."
Izzy stared at the shears as if they were poison. She absently whispered, "Thanks."
"No problem. You were probably looking for them."
Izzy nodded. "Yes. Thank you. I was."
Noah nodded. "Glad I found them then."
Noah stared at Izzy, and Mitch's jaw tightened. Noah then turned to Mitch. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."
“You didn’t.” Mitch rattled the old lock in his hand. “We’re just changing out locks. Shop’s had some trouble lately.”
Noah’s gaze lingered on the old hardware. “Yeah? That’s gotta be rough. Izzy doesn’t deserve that.” He looked over at her. “You doing okay?”
Izzy offered a polite smile. “Thanks, Noah. I’m fine.”
“You sure? If there’s anything I can do, anything at all...”
“She’s good,” Mitch interrupted. “But thanks.”
Jayson moved past them and began packing up the old locks. Mitch held Noah’s gaze until the man gave a nervous half-shrug and backed toward the door.
“Alright, well… see you around.”
Once Noah left, Mitch turned to Jayson. “That didn’t feel right.”
“Nope. Creepy vibe’s off the charts.”
“He knows now that the locks are being changed. That may escalate his behavior, if he's our guy."
Izzy stepped toward them. "I thought you were looking at Travis."
Mitch turned to look into her eyes. "Honey, we're looking at everyone."
Izzy's shoulders slumped. "Oh my Lord. I don't even know what to think or do. I feel like everything about this place is jinxed."
Mitch faced her and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. He bent his knees to look into her eyes. "It isn't jinxed, but someone wants you scared. Maybe scared enough to sell the shop."
She inhaled a deep breath and nodded slowly. "Who wants me gone except Delilah?"
Mitch shook his head. "Maybe just Delilah, and she enlisted help."
Izzy's green eyes stared into his for a long time. He grinned. "We're changing our tactics. Setting a trap to finally get ahead of whoever it is. Now, answer a quick question for me. Have you even taken your pruning shears into the cooler?"
She shook her head slowly. "No. Those are only kept in the greenhouse."
Mitch nodded, then looked at Jayson.
Jayson smirked. “I’m on it.”
Later that night, Mitch sat at the dining room table, his laptop open in front of him. Footage from the courthouse camera played on a loop, grainy night video of Noah’s car parked along the curb across from Petal Pushers. Just sitting. Lights off. Engine cold.
“Three nights this week,” Jayson said, from the computer screen, pointing at the timestamps. “Not delivering. Not moving. Just watching.”
Mitch’s jaw clenched. “Why the hell is he watching her shop at 11 p.m.?”
Jayson responded. "And Noah leaves, then about fifteen minutes later, it looks like Travis appears on the sidewalk and watches the shop."