Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Reid had nearly finished the downstairs lock check when he saw Hopper Shaw through the front window.
The shop was quiet around him, all the chairs tucked in, pastry case wiped down, lights dimmed except for the warm glow behind the counter.
Upstairs, Holly was feeding Blue and taking the breath he’d pushed her to take.
He should have been relieved that she’d trusted him with the small, ordinary work of shutting Sanctuary down for the night.
Instead, he stood behind the counter with a ring of keys in one hand and watched a man who’d been their best suspect pace outside the shop like he was trying to decide whether to come in or run.
Hopper wasn’t near the door. He stayed on the sidewalk beyond the patio gate, shoulders hunched inside his dark jacket, beard moving slightly when he turned his head toward the alley and then back toward the front windows.
He looked wrong for the tidy storefronts of Main Street, too big and restless against the soft evening lights.
Reid clocked him as agitated, a man torn between options.
He didn’t register as predatory, or even dangerous.
Reid let himself out through the door and locked it behind him. Hopper stopped pacing as soon as Reid stepped onto the sidewalk.
“Don’t come closer,” Reid said.
Hopper lifted both hands, palms out. “Wasn’t planning to.”
“You’re standing outside Holly’s shop after being questioned in connection with multiple murders. Why?”
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
Reid kept himself between Hopper and the door. “You’ll understand if I don’t take that on faith.”
“Figured.” Hopper’s mouth pulled tight beneath his beard. “Agent Dawson didn’t either.”
“She has reasons.”
Hopper lowered his hands slowly, telegraphing every movement. “I know what it looks like. Hell, if I were you, I’d think it was me, too.”
Reid watched his shoulders, his hands, the angle of his feet. Hopper carried himself like a man accustomed to being read as a threat and tired of proving he wasn’t. That didn’t make him innocent. “Why are you here?”
Hopper looked past him to the dark windows of Sanctuary. “I wanted to talk to Holly.”
“No.”
“I figured you’d say that.” A muscle worked in Hopper’s jaw. “She thinks I’m a monster now, doesn’t she?”
Reid didn’t answer. Holly had defended him more than once because she’d seen a wounded man where Reid had seen a possible threat. “She knows the evidence points toward you, but she wants you to be innocent.”
Hopper looked down the street, his throat moving as if he were swallowing something hard.
“She’s always kind to me. I barely spoke to her.
Most days I came in, ordered coffee, sat outside, and tried to remember how normal people act in public.
She let me do that. Didn’t ask why I watched the door.
Didn’t ask why I left if the room got too loud.
Just gave me coffee like I was a person instead of a problem. ”
The quiet honesty in that annoyed him. He didn’t want Hopper to be human right now. He wanted the obvious suspect to stay obvious until Claire could tie the bow. “You’ve been watching the shop. Why?”
Hopper’s gaze came back to him. “Because Allen told me I needed to get out of my house. He said Emma wouldn’t want me living like a ghost.” He sighed sharply as if the idea pained him. “He said grief had turned my house into a shrine and I was mistaking isolation for loyalty. He wasn’t wrong.”
“You joined his support group.”
“Not joined.” Hopper’s mouth twisted. “Showed up a few times. Sat there, listened, and left. That was about all I could manage.”
“And the other times you came here?”
“It felt safe enough to try being normal again.” He gave Reid a humorless glance. “Which is a hell of a thing to say now.”
Reid didn’t let his attention drift from Hopper, but his mind had begun sorting the pieces differently.
Allen urging Hopper into public. Hopper at Sanctuary.
Jurors walking into the same shop. Allen knowing the old case better than anyone.
Allen angry at Claire for taking Hopper in.
Allen at Sanctuary that morning, furious and wounded and too quick to lash out at Holly when his moral ground slipped.
“What brought you back tonight?” Reid asked.
“Agent Dawson showed me the punch card. She asked if I wrote it and if it meant anything to me.” Hopper rubbed both hands over his face, exhaustion dragging at him.
“‘Some people don’t deserve sanctuary.’ I didn’t write it, but it’s been circling my head all day because I’ve heard something like it before.
Not those exact words. Close enough that it bothers me, though. ”
“Who said it?”
“I couldn’t place it. Not until I was standing here debating if I should talk to Holly and if it might scare her.” He stared down at his shoes. “That’s when I noticed Allen.”
Reid went still. “Allen? Where?”
“He cut down the alley maybe five minutes before you came out, and that’s when I remembered. After the trial, after the verdict, Allen came to my mother’s house. He said procedure had given Calvin Dodge sanctuary. Said some people didn’t deserve the mercy of the law.”
The shop behind Reid exploded with barking, downstairs behind the front window.
Reid turned. Blue had his front paws braced against the glass, barking with his whole body, claws scraping the window as he tried to get Reid’s attention. His eyes were wild, ears forward, breath fogging the glass.
Blue should have been upstairs with Holly. Reid moved before the thought fully finished. Cold fear grabbed him by the chest, and all the pieces fell into place.
He shoved the key into the front door with hands that didn’t feel like his own, turned the lock, and pushed inside. Blue barreled into him, whining and barking, then spun toward the rear stairwell.
“Hopper, call 911,” Reid ordered. “Tell them Allen Davies is in Holly Bristol’s apartment and she’s in danger.”
He didn’t wait to see whether Hopper obeyed.
Blue hit the stairwell ahead of him, nails scratching on the steps as he lunged upward. Reid followed, taking the stairs two at a time. The sound of Blue’s frantic barking echoed in the narrow space with the pounding of Reid’s own blood. He reached the apartment door and found it shut.
He twisted the knob. Locked. “Holly!” He hit the door with the side of his fist. “Holly, answer me.”
Blue clawed at the bottom of the door, whining, then barking again.
“Holly!”
Her scream came from inside, sharp and terrified. “Re—”
It cut off.
The silence that followed stripped every careful thing out of him. Reid threw his shoulder into the door. The frame held. Pain cracked down his arm. He backed up as much as the landing allowed and hit it again, harder, hearing wood splinter but not give.
“Allen!” he shouted. “Step away from her.”
No answer.
Hopper’s voice rose from the landing below, speaking fast to emergency dispatch.
Reid heard only pieces—Sanctuary Coffee, upstairs apartment, hurry—before he drove his shoulder into the door a third time.
The frame split with a sharp report. The lock tore through the strike plate, and the door slammed inward so hard it bounced off the wall.
Blue shot past him.
Reid entered with his hands up and his body ready to move, then saw Holly on the couch. The world narrowed to the worst possibility he’d ever faced.
She lay on her side, half curled against the cushions, hair spilling across her face. Blood marked her temple, dark against her skin. A Sanctuary cup sat on the coffee table, a napkin lay beside it. The scene had been arranged like in the photos Claire had of the first victim.
For one terrible heartbeat, Reid couldn’t tell if Holly was breathing.
Blue raced to her. Allen was behind the couch with a gun in his right hand. “Stay where you are, Fleming. Control the dog or it gets a bullet.”
Every muscle in Reid’s body wanted to launch across the room. Training held him back when rage would have gotten Holly killed. The gun was angled toward him now, but Allen stood too close to the couch, close enough that if Reid misjudged distance or timing, Holly would pay for it.
Blue didn’t care about anything but her.
He shoved his nose against her cheek, whining, licking her face, his body quivering as he tried to wake her.
Holly didn’t respond. Reid kept his attention on Allen because if he looked at her too long, he’d stop thinking like a man who could save her and start acting like one who had already lost her.
“Put the gun down,” Reid said. “Don’t threaten Holly and Blue won’t attack.”
Allen looked almost disappointed. “You sound like your grandfather.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
Allen’s mouth tightened. “Lincoln Fleming mistook procedure for justice. I expected you to do the same, but I hoped Holly might be different.” His gaze flicked to her, and the contempt in that glance nearly broke Reid’s restraint.
“She built a place called Sanctuary and filled it with people who never understood what the word costs.”
Blue lifted his head from Holly and turned toward Allen, a low snarl rolling from him.
Allen pointed the gun at the dog.
Reid’s voice came out flat and hard. “Don’t. Blue, come!”
The dog held his ground, shoulders stiff, lips curled, every inch of him aimed at the man who’d hurt Holly. Allen’s finger stayed outside the trigger guard, but the barrel remained angled toward Blue.
“Hurt him, and this ends badly for you,” Reid said.
“It already ends badly for me.” Allen’s attention slid back to Reid. “That’s the trouble with justice. Someone always has to be willing to pay the cost.”
“Allen?”
Hopper’s voice came from the doorway. Reid glanced at him. His face had gone slack beneath the beard, shock cutting through all the grief and suspicion Reid had seen there earlier. He looked past Reid to Allen, the gun, to Holly, to the cup and napkin on the table.
“What are you doing?” Hopper asked.
Allen’s irritation flared. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Neither should you. What are you doing?”