Chapter 25
Mitch stood in the alley behind Petal Pushers, the hotel, the gas station, Miracle Garage, and Delilah Parker’s nail salon.
He was near the hotel, where he could hide himself near shrubs and foliage if need be, his arms crossed as he watched the back of Delilah's.
The “Closed” sign hung in the front window despite it being mid-morning when he'd driven by earlier. He’d been standing in the alley for twenty minutes now, leaning against a lamppost with a paper coffee cup in hand, playing the part of an average hotel guest enjoying the morning sun.
Except he wasn’t. He was hunting.
Jayson’s voice buzzed in his ear through the wireless comm link. “Confirmed. Travis was seen on the alley cam again. Last Thursday, midnight. Entering through the back of Delilah’s. No delivery bag. No toolbox. Just him, slipping inside like he owned the place.”
Mitch ground his jaw. “That’s the third time we’ve caught that.”
“Fourth,” Jayson corrected. “He was also seen Monday night. Same deal.”
“Hmm,” Mitch muttered. He took a sip of the now-cold coffee, more out of habit than need. “She doesn’t have appointments that late. So what’s worth sneaking in for?”
“Cash?” Jayson offered. “Or drugs. We’ve got a solid lead suggesting Travis is dealing. Maybe she’s letting him use the salon to stash or move product.”
“Or she’s in on it,” Mitch said darkly.
“She’s certainly not discouraging him.”
Mitch’s mind turned over the implications.
Delilah had debts, two delinquent loans that should’ve disqualified her from any business expansion.
Yet somehow, this morning, lumber had been delivered, and rumor had it, her salon was being remodeled, her supply orders had doubled, and her Instagram account was full of flashy “Coming Soon” posts.
"Travis might be funding her with the drug money," Mitch said aloud. “But that doesn’t explain the sabotage at Petal Pushers. Unless Delilah wants Izzy gone so her salon can expand into the flower shop’s space.”
“Or she’s just vindictive,” Jayson added. “We’ve both seen smaller motives spark bigger crimes.”
Before Mitch could reply, the salon’s back door creaked open.
He stepped behind the post and angled himself just enough to watch.
Delilah emerged in platform heels and a sleek, gold-trimmed dress that didn’t say “business owner” so much as “late-night lounge host.” She scanned the alley, then pulled the door closed and locked it with a short, efficient twist of her wrist.
Travis wasn’t with her, but her appearance alone said enough; she wasn’t unaware of what was happening behind her own walls.
“Delilah’s out,” Mitch said. “I’m going in.”
“Wait...what?” Jayson’s voice sharpened. “You don’t have a warrant.”
“I’m not touching anything. Just looking. I’ll be fast.”
He waited until she turned the corner at the far end of the street, then he crossed the alley quickly to the back entrance. With practiced efficiency, Mitch tested the lock. A small, recessed pin. Child’s play.
Two clicks, and the door eased open.
The salon smelled like polish remover, lavender oil, and something else. Chemical. Acrid. Not nail supplies.
He moved inside quietly, through a small break room.
Inside the salon, he stepped past manicure stations and pedicure chairs until he reached the front.
Shelves lined the walls, packed with bottles, boxes, and bags.
A wall to a smaller room had been removed, the bare studs and wires hanging loose, and the room itself stripped of anything except a stack of 2X4s and a box of screws.
He turned and scanned the rest of the salon until his gaze landed on a cardboard box marked with shipping codes.
Easing the top back, he peered inside, and tucked beneath cotton balls and packets of gloves, were clear plastic bags filled with white powder.
No branding. No paperwork. Just bricks of trouble.
“Bingo,” Mitch whispered. “Get me a local badge. We’ve got product.”
“Copy that. Sending word to Chief Fielding now,” Jayson replied. “But you need to get out of there. I'll phone this in as a concerned citizen.”
Mitch took a few discreet photos, then eased back out the rear door and locked it behind him.
He’d barely rounded the corner when a familiar beat-up sedan turned down the block. Noah’s car. The same one from the courthouse camera. Mitch ducked behind a parked SUV as Noah pulled to a stop across the street, right outside Petal Pushers.
Noah didn’t get out. He just sat there. Watching.
Mitch’s pulse ticked up. The pieces were aligning fast.
“Jayson,” he murmured, “Noah just showed up. Parked and watching again.”
“Same pattern. Same time of day. Think he saw you?”
“Doesn’t look like it.”
“I’ll run another plate check. Maybe pull his employment file again.”
“Yeah,” Mitch said, eyes narrowing on the man across the street. “And dig deeper. There’s something off with him, like he’s always just a step away from unraveling.”
Mitch’s fists clenched.
Between Travis’s secret deals, Delilah’s silent complicity, and Noah’s strange behavior, this web was complicated.
He just had to make sure Izzy stayed out of it long enough for him to cut it down.
Mitch moved around the alley, silently and carefully, his eyes locked on Noah. The man hadn’t moved. Just stared at the front of Petal Pushers, his expression unreadable. The guy gave off an eerie calm, the kind Mitch had learned not to trust.
A low wail cut through the quiet. Sirens.
Noah stiffened. A second later, he threw the car into gear, pulled away from the curb, and disappeared down the street.
“Jayson,” Mitch muttered into his comm. “Noah just bolted. Probably heard the cruisers.”
“Copy. I’ll get someone to watch his place.”
The sheriff’s cruiser turned the corner and rolled to a stop in front of Delilah’s salon. Mitch stepped out from the alley and approached, flashing his security credentials as Chief Fielding climbed out of his vehicle.
“Chief Fielding,” Mitch said evenly.
Fielding gave a brief nod. “Hi, Mitch. We got a call about suspicious activity here. Did you see anything?”
“I was conducting surveillance in the alley.
.." He pointed toward the hotel, "I observed a pattern I think you'll want to look into.” Mitch kept his voice calm, careful.
“Travis Fielder has been entering this building late at night through the back door. No deliveries. No tools. Just slips in like he owns it. Multiple times over the past two weeks.”
Fielding’s eyes narrowed. “I haven't heard anything about Travis and Delilah being friends or friendly. Isn't Travis living with Sadie Anderson?”
Mitch nodded and took a deep breath. "One and the same. I'm concerned about the proximity Travis has to Izzy."
Chief Fielding nodded. "I'd be worried about that, too. I know you're watching that closely."
Mitch nodded. “I also saw Delilah Parker leave the building minutes ago, locking up like nothing was unusual. Given the context, her known debts, her recent sudden renovations, and her connection to Travis, it felt off.”
“And you’re saying this is all from surveillance?”
“That’s right,” Mitch said. “Camera footage. I installed cameras all around Petal Pushers so we could watch who might be coming and going. Izzy had reason to believe someone was entering the shop at night. She was right, we saw someone entering.”
Fielding nodded slowly. “And you have that footage?”
“My team’s forwarding it now. And there’s more.
” Mitch pulled out his phone and scrolled to a still frame of Noah’s car parked outside Petal Pushers.
“This man, Noah Grady. Delivery driver. Fired last year, now freelances with his own truck. He’s been hanging around the shop at odd hours, always watching.
We’ve caught his car on courthouse surveillance multiple times. ”
Fielding studied the image. “You think he’s tied into this?”
“I think he’s got a fixation with Izzy,” Mitch said. “He returned something this morning, a pair of her pruning shears, said he found them in her cooler. But she never put them there. Whoever placed them had to have been inside. This was at the same time he delivered an order she never placed.”
“You’re building a hell of a case,” Fielding muttered. “You think this is a coordinated effort?”
Mitch shrugged. “Delilah and Travis have financial motive; if Izzy goes under, they could expand.
That's all in the current town minutes. She's wanted expansion for a while. The only way to expand is if the businesses on either side of her sell. Izzy's place and the gas station on the other side. Or up. Adding a second floor. But she's financially strapped. Noah’s motive might be personal. Either way, someone’s trying to scare Izzy out.”
Fielding tucked his notebook away and waved over the newly arrived deputy. “We have a call into Delilah since the call came in about her place. I'm told she's on her way. You stay close to your client.”
"After you see the footage Jayson, my partner, is sending over, I think you'll want to do a thorough check inside,” Mitch said.
"Interesting. Thanks for the tip." Fielding nodded as he moved toward the street, where Delilah was pulling up in her car.
Mitch’s gaze returned to the street where Noah had sat just minutes before. Too many players. Too many angles.