“Get out,” he said. He was still speaking in a low voice, but more anger spilled forth as he continued. “Get out of my wife’s store and don’t come back. I don’t want to see you, and I don’t want to hear from you. Do you understand?”
Madeline’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I … I really don’t.”
“Mr. Harlow,” Raina started cautiously, “Madeline wanted to talk—”
“I saidget out!” Andrew repeated, louder and sharper this time. “You arenevergetting this store. So get out.Now.”
Without another word, Madeline stepped past him and hurried away.
“Shit,” Ziya muttered. “I’ll try to catch her. You talk to Raina.”
Amie spluttered. “What? Wait—” But Ziya was already rushing down the aisle before she could say anything more.
Andrew’s voice brought Amie back to eavesdropping.
“I’m sorry about that,” he said, his voice rough.
“Don’t worry about it.” Raina sounded concerned. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much.”
“No, no, I’m fine. I want to be here.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Keep her out of the store, please,” Andrew said firmly. “And … I think we’re almost out of iced tea.”
“I have another jug in the back,” Raina said. “I’ll go get it.”
Amie froze as Raina passed the aisle she was hiding in, but the store’s manager didn’t notice her as she disappeared into the back room.
“Can I help you find something?”
Amie jumped, knocking a fantasy trilogy clean off the shelf as she whirled around.
The person who’d spoken knelt down to retrieve the fallen books. He looked to be in his early twenties, with a shock of red curls tied up in a short ponytail. Amie recognized him as one of the store’s employees.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. She shuffled backward awkwardly to give him room as he scooped the books up. As he straightened, she caught a glimpse of the name on his tag—Grayson.
“Nah, my fault,” he replied, tucking the clipboard he’d been holding under his arm as he returned the books to their shelf. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I’ve just been jumpy lately,” Amie said. “Not your fault.”
“Bro, same.” Grayson hunched his shoulders, lowering his voice. “I didn’t even wanna come in today. Since Savannah couldn’t work, for obvious reasons, they needed the help. But there’s amurdererout there.” He shivered. “Any of us could be next.”
Amie was taken aback by how indiscreetly this guy was speaking to her. Not wanting to discourage him, she hid her surprise.
“I’m sure you’re not in danger,” she said. “Especially not in a busy bookstore in the middle of the day.”
“I dunno, man.” Grayson shook his head. “Crowds can make it easy for someone to take out a knife”—he mimed drawing what appeared to be a dagger from a sheath, stabbing it into the air—“then slip away into the throng, undetected.”
Amie suddenly felt less safe standing in a busy bookstore in the middle of the day. Especially with someone who was so adept with imaginary knives.
“It’s even worse when there’s hardly anyone around,” Grayson continued. “Thank god they never leave me alone in here. It getsspookyquiet.”
Considering how willingly he abandoned working to talk with Amie, she could understand why that might be a policy.
“Do you have a reason to believe you’d be in danger?” she asked.
“Not really.” He tapped his right temple. “But some murderers kill for reasons we’d never be able to guess. It’s scary. Like, what if this guy has a vendetta against people who work at bookstores, and I’m next?”
