Page 71 of Shadow Justice

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “There was a dark sedan outside my house this morning. Same car later near my office. If the Bureau has decided I require observation, they could have the courtesy to say so. If it isn’t the Bureau, then apparently I’m meant to wait until someone leaves a cup beside my body.”

Holly recoiled. “Did you call Agent Dawson?”

“No. I don’t need her or her partner telling me to stay out of her investigation again.”

“If someone is watching you, she needs to know.”

“Does she?” His eyes flashed. “The remaining jurors get deputies and safe houses. Hopper gets dragged in on the anniversary of Emma’s death. And those of us who stood with him and his family are expected to accept whatever crumbs of concern the system has left over.”

Holly heard pain in the words, but there was something else beneath it, something sharper than fear.

“How do you know about the jurors?” Reid asked.

Allen snapped his gaze toward him. “People talk.”

Reid was now only a few feet away, no longer pretending to work. “Which people?”

“Former jurors who woke up this morning to law enforcement at their doors. Old courthouse acquaintances. People frightened enough to call the man who prosecuted the case that apparently never finished taking from them.” His attention returned to Holly. “I’m not guessing in the dark. They’re protecting the jury.”

“Then let them protect you too,” Holly said. “Call Dawson, or call Shadow Point Security.”

Allen’s expression cooled further. “Shadow Point.” His gaze flicked to Reid. “I’m sure they’re all excellent at deciding who gets locked behind gates and who gets treated like a problem to be managed.”

“That’s not fair,” she said.

“Fair?” Allen’s laugh came softer this time. “Hopper has spent these past few years trying to survive what happened to his sister, and yesterday he was treated like grief made him probable cause. Today, the jurors get protection. The people who loved Emma get suspicion.”

Reid crossed his arms. “Give me the description and plate of the car you saw. I’ll contact Claire and confirm whether it belongs to a federal or local detail.”

Allen looked at him for several seconds, and Holly saw the instant he understood more than Reid had meant to show. Not everything, maybe, but enough. Reid wasn’t just Roni’s brother helping behind the counter. He wasn’t just a friend staying close because Holly was rattled. He had a direct line to the FBI and had been inside the investigation from the start.

Allen’s attention cut back to Holly. “You knew.”

The accusation hurt more than she expected. “Knew what?”

“That he’s working with them.” His voice rose, the anger in it causing several heads to turn from nearby tables. “You let me come in here and trust my situation with you, while he stood behind the counter measuring every word.”

Holly shook her head and reached out to him. “Allen, it isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it?” His eyes held hers, and the man who had helped her fight Carl Whitmer seemed to recede. “I thought Sanctuary was honest. I thought your compassion was honest. I didn’t realize it stopped the second someone frightened you enough to make you doubt the people you claim to care for.”

The words hurt in a way a physical blow couldn’t. Holly had built Sanctuary out of honesty, out of welcome, out of the belief that people deserved a place to be seen without being judged immediately by their worst day. Allen knew that.

Reid moved before she could answer. He stepped between them just enough to break the line of attack without blocking Holly from the room.

“You can be angry at me,” Reid said. “You don’t get to punish her.”

Allen’s face flushed. “I’m speaking the truth.”

“I think you came here scared and angry, and you’re putting both on her because she’s safe enough for you to target.”

The quiet force in Reid’s voice made the shop seem to hold its breath. Holly should have told him she could defend herself. Right then, with Allen’s accusation still burning in her chest, Reid’s defense felt like a hand at her back.

Allen looked around the shop, taking in the customers who’d gone silent. Maya stood frozen near the hallway with a dish towel in her hand.

“Safe,” Allen said the word so bitterly it barely sounded like him. “Yes. That’s what this place pretends to be, doesn’t it?”

Holly’s throat tightened. “Allen, please.”