“Because you’ve already threatened to kill three people today, and the last thing you need is a sugar rush?”
Christian grinned and headed across the street. “I’ll walk it off.”
The bell above the bakery door jingled, and the shop smelled so sweet it made his teeth ache. He scanned the display case and found—empty trays.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he muttered.
The woman behind the counter offered a sympathetic smile. “We sold out this morning. Always go quick.”
“Shame,” Dave said. “They sound legendary.”
“We’ve still got scones and cookies,” she offered.
Christian gestured at Dave. “Any of it vegan?”
She winced. “No, sorry. I keep meaning to try a few things, but…”
“No worries,” Dave said easily.
Christian listened as Dave drew her into conversation—asking about the town, what was worth seeing, how long she’d lived here. A couple of years, it turned out. That was enough to rule her out as a lead, so Dave didn’t push further.
They thanked her and stepped back into the street, sun dipping toward the horizon.
Christian didn’t know what he’d been hoping for, exactly. Perhaps a mention of something that might tell them where to look.
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “We’re gonna have to work out how we’re actually doing this.”
“That’d help,” Dave agreed.
They crossed the street again, Christian trying not to be disappointed that the cinnamon roll gods had forsaken him. It wasn’t exactly the first time the world had offered something and snatched it away.
“Let’s walk a bit,” he said. “Get the lay of the land.”
Dave arched an eyebrow. “Looking for another bakery?”
“Looking for someone with answers,” Christian said. “We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
“So… we’re walking into it.”
“Yeah, well. I didn’t say it was agoodplan.”
This part of town didn’t seem like much, though they bookmarked a diner and a couple of bars for later. Every person they passed looked at them a beat too long.
“You think they can smell we’re not local?” Dave asked under his breath.
“Probably wondering if we’re property developers,” Christian said. “Or feds. Or both.”
They passed a bookstore with aLocal Author Signingbanner hanging lopsided in the window. Christian took it in with narrowed eyes, like if he stared hard enough, the town would give up its secrets.
“You do realize you’re not going to glare the killer into confessing, right?”
Christian didn’t answer. His jaw flexed once.
“Hey,” Dave said gently. “It’s not all on us.”
They walked on in silence a few paces. Then Christian said, quieter this time, “I want to get started. But I don’t even know the right questions yet.”
Dave bumped his shoulder. “So let’s figure them out together, over dinner.” He paused. “Assuming you can find somewhere to eat that serves steak by the pound.”
