Chapter Five
A little over a week passed quickly and surprisingly uneventfully—Gard got the splint off his nose and mostly healed up. He stopped looking for Dani, because if she had the address of a drug house on her computer, it was clear she’d just fallen back into old patterns.
It hurt, and he still wanted to track her down, still worried she hadn’t contacted Sammy, but he couldn’t screw up his own life—or, more importantly, Sammy’s—to do it.
Sammy getting so upset about his nose and him looking for Dani was a harsh reminder that he was all she had now, and he had to act accordingly.
Laurel would keep an eye out and an ear to the ground and let him know if she heard anything about Dani, but that was all Gard could allow himself. Sammy had to be his priority now.
So, he rearranged his schedule as best he could to be able to drive her where she needed to be and be around when she was home.
He took her to family therapy, learned how to check her grades, tried to vet her rides that weren’t him, and, in the end, he let her spend way too much time at the Hope Town Bakery.
He worked around the system a little so that on the off chance they could locate Dani, get her into some rehab, she wouldn’t have ruined her shot at being in Sammy’s life, but he also knew even if she came back—it was going to be Gard’s responsibility to get Sammy through these last years of high school. So he didn’t plan for Dani’s return.
Just hoped.
Lia claimed Sammy didn’t cause any trouble at the bakery and was learning how to decorate cookies like a pro. Lia claimed she was an asset.
Gard chose to believe her, because what else was there to do? Lia saw Sammy as some kind of…karmic chance to be the help she’d never had as a teen, so if she was lying about Sammy behaving it was about that—not covering for Sammy.
Besides, Sammy had seemed so pleased when Lia had called her an asset. Sure, she was still moody and unpredictable but working at the bakery was having a positive effect on this transition period.
Gard tried to imagine what Lia Blair had been like as a teen. To hate cops. To sympathize with a girl who would steal. What had she gone through?
Truth be told, he found himself thinking a little too much about Lia Blair.
If Sammy wasn’t involved, he’d have probably asked her out by now. He’d wormed his way under that original dislike and distrust, he liked to think. She called him Gard now. She even smiled at him on occasion.
And he liked the challenge—because he didn’t quite know what Lia Blair would say. She’d be tempted, he knew that—whatever she felt about him as a person, they were attracted to each other. But he was curious if she’d turn him down or take a chance.
But Sammy existed as a line he didn’t want to cross. So maybe he flirted, but he didn’t push it beyond that.
It was getting a little harder though. Because here he was, dropping some papers off at the sheriff’s department before he went off duty, excited to get to the bakery.
Where he’d chat with Lia for ten minutes or so about Sammy’s progress, or sometimes he could get her off topic. The weather, the bakery, music, movies.
“Fairhurst, you got a minute?”
Gard turned from the mailboxes to see Detective Copeland Beckett striding toward him.
Probably about a case, though Gard didn’t know of any active investigations the detectives were handling that involved him.
Still, Gard was used to answering whatever questions the detectives had about calls he might have responded to.
“Sure, what’s up?”
“You know that drug house you came across off duty?”
Gard tried not to stiffen. He’d reported what he’d seen, but not why he’d been there. “Yeah.”
“Is this the guy you saw run out of it?” Beckett held out a picture, grainy, black and white, clearly from some security footage.
Gard studied it—the proportions of the body, the profile of the face. “I didn’t get the best look at him since he was running, but…this doesn’t seem quite right.”
Beckett nodded taking the picture back. “This guy is six-two, two-ten. Scar on the side of his neck.”
“Yeah, definitely not the runner. He was under six feet and scrawny. Does this guy in the picture own the place or something?”
“No. Haven’t been able to track down an owner, but a case I’m looking into had this guy using that address on a job application.”
“No one was living there. I looked through the whole house. No signs of anything but drug use.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m curious. Why use an address that’s just a house full of drug paraphernalia?” Beckett shook his head. “Anyway, thanks. Just wanted to make sure we couldn’t physically connect him.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
Beckett turned and started to walk away, but Gard followed. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of case is it?”
“The Hardy Police Department has been dealing with some reports of possible human trafficking. They’ve asked for some assistance, and it led us to this guy.” Beckett held up the picture. “Might be nothing, just talk, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
A little trickle of cold unease crept up his spine. But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t assume Dani’s disappearance was anything but what it usually was.
Except she hasn’t contacted Sammy.
Beckett walked away and Gard stood there, arguing internally with himself.
Maybe Dani was connected to that house somehow—drugs no doubt, but the guy he’d seen run out of it was not the guy Beckett was looking for.
Thinking Dani had somehow gotten mixed up in a human trafficking ring in Hardy was a leap with no real evidence.
He tried to set aside the unease, but it stayed.
And no doubt would, until he looked into it himself.
At two o’clock, Albennie went home, leaving Lia and Sammy to finish up the day together. It was getting to be almost normal.
It was getting to be nice. The girl was sarcastic, constantly on her phone, a little self-obsessed…and funny, creative, and genuinely interested in baking. It was like whiplash every day—frustration and fascination. Wanting to help the girl. Wanting to throttle her.
Like right now, when Sammy was purposefully dawdling instead of going out to the main room and cleaning up the tables, which was always her last job of the day. A job she did not like and tried to avoid.
“It’s two thirty,” Lia said, speaking loudly to get through the screen-haze Sammy was often in.
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed, not looking up from her phone. Lia could see she was watching baking videos. Which was somehow both heartwarming and irritating since the girl was in a bakery and had a job to do that involved baking, so maybe she could save the videos for home.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning the tables, remember?”
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed, swiping up to the next video. She didn’t move. Clearly, she wasn’t actually listening.
Trying to breathe through her frustration, Lia lost that last grip on patience. She put her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Then sharply said, “Sammy.”
Sammy looked up, blinking in confusion. “What?” she demanded in what could only be described as teenage disgust, like Lia was overreacting when Lia wouldn’t have whistled if Sammy had listened.
Teenagers. Natural gaslighters.
“It is time to clean the front tables,” Lia said between clenched teeth.
Sammy sighed dramatically but shoved her phone into her pocket and headed for the front room. The bell on the door tinkled at the same time, so Lia followed to wait on the customer.
Sammy stopped short at the archway between the kitchen and the storefront. So abruptly Lia almost ran into her back.
“I can’t go out there,” Sammy hissed.
“Why not?”
“Because I know that girl.”
Lia looked out at the bakery. A teenage girl had just walked in with a woman. Maybe a mother and daughter, but they didn’t look much alike and were maybe a little too close in age.
“And why can’t you clean up the tables while a girl you know is here?”
“Because it’s embarrassing!”
“You know what else is embarrassing?”
Sammy glared at her. “You’re going to say stealing money and getting caught.”
“Bingo, kid.” But Lia was a softy, as previously established. She gave Sammy a little nudge forward. “Go take their order.”
Sammy blinked at her. “You’re going to let me use the cash register?”
“Go take their order. Before I change my mind. Or they do about coming here and you cost me paying customers.”
Sammy practically skipped out to the counter, though some of that enthusiasm faded when the other teenage girl looked at her.
Lia watched, ready to jump in if need be. Maybe she should have let Sammy hide. Maybe this was some sort of mean girl situation.
“I can take your order,” Sammy said, sounding a little shy.
“Hey, Sammy,” the girl greeted with a friendly smile. She looked around the room. “You work here?”
“Yeah.”
“That is so cool.” She shot a look at the woman with her. “My dad said if I want a job, I have to work for him.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yeah, playing with dogs is a real hardship,” the woman muttered. “Can we get two frozen mochas and two chocolate chip muffins?”
Sammy dutifully punched the order into the tablet and then offered a total. The woman paid with card, so that was easy enough for Sammy to figure out, and Lia got started on the coffees while Sammy packaged up two muffins.
“Hey, did you understand the math homework?” the girl asked Sammy.
Lia glanced over her shoulder to see Sammy shaking her head, not quite meeting the girl’s steady eye contact.
“Do you know Sarabeth Thompson?” the girl persisted.
Sammy nodded, still being uncharacteristically mute.
“We’re going to meet up before school tomorrow— Sarabeth’s great at math, so she was going to help me. Then we’re both going to try to figure out what the heck gerunds are. Grammar makes me want to die.”
Sammy said nothing. Lia kind of wanted to go over there and poke her into saying something. Clearly the other teen was being nice, friendly.