"Oh yeah, the librarian. Rachel, right? She comes in like twice a week. Always gets an oatmeal latte with extra foam and two sugars."
Something loosened in his chest. "She was alone?"
"Yeah, totally alone. She sat in the corner booth for like an hour, maybe an hour and a half? Worked on her laptop the whole time. Looked stressed." Jess paused, frowning. "Why?"
"Did anyone sit with her? Talk to her?"
"Nope. She was by herself. I remember because I felt bad, she looked like she was dealing with something heavy."
Cole stepped forward. "This is important. Is there any chance someone could have sat across from her without you noticing?"
Jess thought about it. "I mean, it was busy Monday morning. But I would have noticed if someone joined her. She was in the corner booth, I have a clear sightline from the counter. She was definitely alone."
"Do you have security cameras?" Mac asked, every muscle tight.
"Yeah, the owner has cameras. For insurance or whatever." Jess gestured to the corners of the shop. "Two cameras. One covers the counter, one covers the seating area."
Twenty minutes later, Harold the owner, a man in his fifties with a graying beard and Red Sox cap, had pulled up the security footage on his laptop.
"Someone's been harassing Rachel?" Harold said, already scrubbing through files. "She's one of my regulars. Sweetest person."
Mac and Cole watched the screen: Rachel enters The Grind, ordering at the counter, taking her latte to the corner booth. Settling in with her laptop. Working intently, occasionally sipping coffee, completely absorbed in whatever she wasdoing.
Alone.
No one sat with her. No one approached her table.
"Wait," Mac said suddenly. "Go back. Around 10:15."
Rick rewound.
And there, in the background, near the door, a figure in a dark jacket. Standing. Watching Rachel from across the shop. Holding up a phone.
Taking a photo.
"That's him," Mac said, his voice cold with fury. "That's Matthews."
Cole leaned closer to the screen. "That's stalking."
Harold transferred the footage to a thumb drive and handed it to Mac. "I’m so sorry this creep is bothering, Rachel. I’ll keep an eye out for him. Tell Rachel next coffee's on the house."
Mac sat in his truck outside The Grind, staring at the thumb drive in his hand.
The footage proved Rachel was alone which he knew in his heart but something darker followed it. She shouldn't have to prove herself, she was right. But neither should I.
He'd doubted her. For five minutes. And she'd looked at him like he'd betrayed everything they'd built.
When do I get the benefit of the doubt?Mac thought, then immediately felt guilty for thinking it.
But the thought lingered.
Mac hung up and drove to the library, his stomach churning with nerves.
Rachel
Rachel was re-shelving books in the romance section, ironic, given her life, when Mrs. Henderson appeared beside her with that knowing expression that meant a lecture was coming.
"You look terrible, dear," Mrs. Henderson observed.
