Chapter 2 #2
Emmet finally shifted. “Ms. Bristol, this is why we need someone inside the shop.”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “Inside the shop?”
Claire nodded. “Mr. Fleming will be placed here under cover.”
Holly’s focus snapped to Reid. “Under cover as what?”
“Publicly,” Claire said, “he’s your new employee.”
Holly looked too stunned to be angry. Then she gave Reid a slow once-over that might have been funny if the room hadn’t still held Nell Truett’s name. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.
“It’s the best solution,” Claire said.
Holly stared at Reid as if someone had suggested she hire a mountain lion to work the pastry case. “Do you even know how to make a cup of coffee?”
That was what she was worried about? “I’ve made coffee, Holly.”
“Do you know how to operate an espresso machine?”
Reid fought to keep his expression neutral rather than incredulous that this was the line she was drawing in the sand. “I can learn.”
“Do you know the difference between a latte, a cappuccino, and a flat white?”
“I assume you’re going to tell me.”
“Holly,” Claire said, drawing the focus back before the thread between them could pull too tight, “the cover works because he recently returned to Blackridge. You know him and his family, so his connection to you is plausible. If people ask questions, you explain that you needed extra help and he was looking for work.”
Holly snorted. “He’s a lawyer.”
“Lawyers can become unemployed,” Emmet said dryly.
“Roni will never believe her brother woke up one morning and decided to become a barista.”
“She only has to accept it for now,” Claire said, “and you can’t tell her the truth unless we clear it.”
Holly looked from Claire to Emmet to Reid. “You’re asking me to lie to my best friend.”
“We’re asking you to protect an active investigation,” Claire said. “We need to catch this suspect before he attacks someone else, and everyone who comes in here is fair game to him.”
Holly’s shoulders lost a fraction of their fight. She was angry about keeping secrets. She was frightened of what telling the truth might cost someone she loved.
He hated that this was the position they’d put her in, even if it was necessary.
Holly turned to him. “And you agreed to this.”
“I did.”
For a heartbeat, he thought she might throw him out on principle alone.
He wouldn’t have blamed her. Holly had built this place around trust and the fragile magic of people feeling safe enough to become regulars instead of strangers.
Now the FBI was asking her to keep pouring coffee while wondering whether the person across the counter was a target or a killer.
Claire closed her notebook. “We’ve gone over the operational details with Reid.
He’ll coordinate with us and Shadow Point as needed, but the public story is that he’s working here.
We’ll need copies of available security footage, staff schedules, event calendars, and any customer information you keep through online ordering or rewards accounts. ”
“I don’t keep much.”
“Whatever you have,” Emmet said.
Claire put the notebook away. “You’ll also contact Reid immediately if you receive another message or notice anything unusual.”
Reid went on alert. “Message? What message?”
Claire handed him an evidence bag containing a white punch card. “Read the back.”
He did, and everything in him tightened. “This was sent to you?” he asked Holly.
“It was left on the counter,” she replied. “I don’t know who put it there.”
He took one last look at it and handed it back to Claire. “Have you received any others?”
Holly shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“Don’t confront anyone,” Claire said. “Don’t investigate on your own. Reid will need to work every day, and we recommend close protection after hours until we understand whether you’re being directly targeted.”
Holly’s eyes narrowed. “Define close.”
Emmet’s voice hardened. “Close enough to keep you alive if our killer decides you’re on his list.”
Reid saw her eyes widen. “I’ll sleep outside the door if I have to,” he said. “On the floor.”
She barely gave him a glance, her face gaunt with shock and at least a little fear..
Claire softened her tone without softening the order. “Call it temporary cooperation.”
Claire slipped the evidence bag into her jacket. “We’ll be in touch later. Mr. Fleming has our direct numbers. For now, let him help.”
Holly squeezed her eyes shut. It was obvious she didn’t want his help, but she didn’t have a choice.
Claire looked at Reid, and he read the handoff in her eyes. They’d given Holly the facts. Now it was his job to make the arrangement hold.
Emmet and Claire walked out. A moment later, the bell over the front door chimed, and the agents were gone.
The office should have felt more spacious without them. It didn’t.
Holly remained behind the desk, arms folded, gaze fixed somewhere near Reid’s left shoulder. He knew that strategy. Look near the problem, not at it. Maintain control. Do not give the other person the satisfaction of knowing where they have landed a blow.
He’d used the same technique in courtrooms. He hated seeing her use it on him. “Say whatever you need to say.”
Her eyes slowly came to his. “That could take a while.”
“I’m here. I have time.”
Something flickered across her face. Pain, maybe.
Anger, certainly. She seemed to expect more—a defense, a legal argument, or maybe a carefully constructed explanation for why leaving her before dawn after the night they’d shared had been necessary and honorable.
They were all lined up in his head, all the words he’d once used to convince himself that walking away made him decent instead of afraid.
He gave her none of them.
Not here. Not now.
Holly looked away first. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t know what this place is to me.”
He chose his next words carefully. “You talked about it once. A place that felt safe. Where people could come when they needed warmth and quiet and needed to feel like they belonged.” He looked at the first dollar on the wall, then back at her. “You built it.”
Her expression softened, and for a second he saw the young woman she’d been that night, lying beside him in the dark, speaking dreams into the space between them because neither of them had wanted to talk about morning.
Then the present moved back in. “And now someone is using it,” she said. Her throat moved. “To find people like Nell.”
“It looks that way.”
She swallowed hard again. “And you, standing behind my counter, are supposed to fix that?”
“It gives us a way to watch without warning him.”
“You’re sure it’s a man?”
He shook his head. “We’re not sure of anything, but the profile suggests it is.”
She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I cannot believe this.”
“I wish you didn’t have to.”
Her laugh broke off before it became anything real. “How noble of you.”
Reid took one step closer, then stopped when her shoulders tightened.
“A uniformed officer would scare people. An obvious bodyguard would do the same. The suspect may be watching you, the shop, or both. If I’m here as an employee, I can stay close, observe the regulars, and see the patterns you may not know are there. ”
“I know all of that, but these customers…”
“Are your family.”
Holly dropped her hands. “So what am I supposed to do? Look at every person who walks in here and wonder if they’re next, or if they’re guilty?”
“You keep running your shop,” he said. “You tell me when something seems off, even if it’s small.”