He ground his teeth. Because depending on the answer to that last question, it changed everything. If the glove went to law enforcement, the DNA would be tested and the results would lead somewhere he had spent years making sure no one could reach. If it went to a competitor or an enemy, it became a weapon aimed at him. And if it went to someone inside his own circle, someone who had access to his home, who knew where the safe was, who had watched him enter the code…well, that could be a problem.
Luther closed the surveillance feed. He picked up his phone, turned it over in his hand, and set it back down.
Not yet. First he needed to know where the glove had gone. Then he would decide what to do about the person who took it.
He finished the bourbon in one long swallow and stared out the window at the mountains. The morning light was clean and bright and it made everything outside look simple. Inside was a different matter.
25
The van smelled like stale coffee and the vinyl seats that had been baking in the sun before dawn turned to shade. Noah and Callie had been parked three cars down from the Strutz Agency since six in the morning, tucked between a plumber's truck and a Subaru with a ski rack that hadn't been used since winter. They'd watched Samuel Bridger arrive at eight fifteen, key in hand, and disappear up the stairs. Since then, nothing. A woman walked her dog past the storefronts. A delivery truck pulled up to the hardware store and left ten minutes later. The town moved at the pace of a town that had nowhere urgent to be.
Noah had his seat reclined two inches and his eyes half closed. Not sleeping. Drifting. A state that cops on surveillance learned to occupy, where the body rested but the brain kept one channel open. He'd done this a hundred times over the years. Stakeouts were ninety percent boredom and ten percent everything else, and the trick was staying sharp enough for the ten percent without losing your mind during the ninety.
Callie tapped his arm. "Heads up. We got action."
Noah blinked hard and straightened. Through the windshield he caught sight of a girl on a bicycle pulling up to the building. She leaned the bike against the wall beside the brass-numbered door and went inside.
"Oh great," Noah said. "What is she doing here?"
It was Ruby.
"Probably still searching for Fiona," Callie said. She reached for the door handle. "I should go in."
Noah placed his hand on her arm. "And draw attention to us. No. We wait."
They waited five minutes but it felt longer. Noah watched the door and thought about Ruby breaking into Garrett Finch's studio, Ruby showing up at the station with bruises on her arm, Ruby identifying the windmill in the photograph. The girl had a talent for inserting herself into places she didn't belong, and so far it had paid off more than it hadn't. But walking into the office of a man they were actively surveilling was a different kind of risk.
The door opened and Ruby came back out. She grabbed her bicycle, swung a leg over the seat, and pedaled away down Main Street without looking back.
"Wonder what that was all about," Callie said.
Noah sank back into his seat. "No idea. We should do a run to the coffee store. This could be a long day."
"You think he's guilty?"
"Of the murders? Who knows. Of an offense against Hailey Benton?" He looked at her. "You heard the witness. What do you think?"
"Credible. I mean, I understood what Ray was saying. If Marisol had been fired, she might want to snap back at Bridger. And the connection to the agency is there for all the girls, so it's easy to point a finger. But that seems a stretch. Messing with someone's livelihood? Toying with a parent's emotions? No."Callie shook her head. "I think she has a strong hunch, or she knew more than she was telling."
Noah nodded. "Let's go get some coffee. Bridger didn't look like he was in a hurry this morning."
He fired up the Bronco and pulled out, heading through Elizabethtown toward the Pleasant Valley Café.
"So I heard from Jake recently," Callie said.
"Oh yeah?" Noah replied through the fog in his brain.
"He left some of his belongings here. Back then he said he was going to come back and collect them, but now he wants me to ship them. Says he'll send the money."
Noah glanced at her. "How do you feel about it all?"
"I'd be lying if I said it hasn't bothered me. But it is what it is, right?"
She looked at him as if he might have an answer. He didn't. "I'm the last person to ask. Never really had much luck in that department."
She chuckled. "You and me both."
Noah pulled up outside the café and they got out. Callie headed inside to order. Noah stayed on the sidewalk, stretching his back, when his phone rang. He pulled it out. High Peaks Police Department.
