Page 12 of Shadow Justice

Holly swallowed. “She comes in on Wednesdays. Sometimes on Fridays, if she has an appointment downtown. She gets a small hot chocolate with cinnamon, no whipped cream, and a cranberry muffin if we have them.” Her voice thinned on the last words. “She sits by the window and reads library books with those little sticky tabs all over them. She’s a book club regular.”

Nell Truett was thirty-seven, a part-time aide at the public library. She’d been attacked behind her apartment building two nights ago. A neighbor taking out trash had interrupted the attack, but Nell had severe head trauma. She’d fought back, evidenced by her defensive wounds, but hadn’t regained enough lucidity to give a statement. The neighbor hadn’t seen anything but a blur when the attacker raced away.

On paper, she was a surviving victim. In Holly’s office, she was hot chocolate with cinnamon and sticky tabs in library books.

“Is she going to live?” Holly asked, her voice shaky.

Claire glanced at Reid.

He didn’t know why she gave him that moment, but he took it because Holly was looking at him now and not at the agents. Maybe some part of her expected him to soften the truth.

“The doctors are cautiously hopeful,” he told her. “She’s in bad shape—head injury, broken ribs, and she’s been in and out of consciousness. All we know is that she was attacked from behind in that alley and there was a Sanctuary bag left behind.”

Holly closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, they were bright in a way that made something in Reid’s chest go hard and protective. “She was just here last week. She had a stack of books about native plants and said she was going to make her balcony look less depressing this year.” Holly looked past him toward the dining room beyond as if it could give her back the morning when Nell had stood at the counter, ordinary and alive and unaware someone might already have been watching.

No one rushed to fill the silence after that. Reid was glad. Some moments deserved to be left intact, even when they hurt.

Emmet finally shifted. “Ms. Bristol, this is why we need someone inside the shop.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. “Inside the shop?”

Claire nodded. “Mr. Fleming will be placed here under cover.”

Holly’s focus snapped to Reid. “Under cover as what?”

“Publicly,” Claire said, “he’s your new employee.”

Holly looked too stunned to be angry. Then she gave Reid a slow once-over that might have been funny if the room hadn’t still held Nell Truett’s name. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said.

“It’s the best solution,” Claire said.

Holly stared at Reid as if someone had suggested she hire a mountain lion to work the pastry case. “Do you even know how to make a cup of coffee?”

That was what she was worried about? “I’ve made coffee, Holly.”

“Do you know how to operate an espresso machine?”

Reid fought to keep his expression neutral rather than incredulous that this was the line she was drawing in the sand. “I can learn.”

“Do you know the difference between a latte, a cappuccino, and a flat white?”

“I assume you’re going to tell me.”

“Holly,” Claire said, drawing the focus back before the thread between them could pull too tight, “the cover works because he recently returned to Blackridge. You know him and his family, so his connection to you is plausible. If people ask questions, you explain that you needed extra help and he was looking for work.”

Holly snorted. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Lawyers can become unemployed,” Emmet said dryly.

“Roni will never believe her brother woke up one morning and decided to become a barista.”

“She only has to accept it for now,” Claire said, “and you can’t tell her the truth unless we clear it.”

Holly looked from Claire to Emmet to Reid. “You’re asking me to lie to my best friend.”

“We’re asking you to protect an active investigation,” Claire said. “We need to catch this suspect before he attacks someone else, and everyone who comes in here is fair game to him.”

Holly’s shoulders lost a fraction of their fight. She was angry about keeping secrets. She was frightened of what telling the truth might cost someone she loved.