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Before I can call him, the knob stops moving. Footsteps cross the wet gravel, and the security camera catches the edge of a dark sleeve. An engine starts beyond its range, then tires hiss over the pavement as the vehicle speeds toward the end of the alley.

Birdie stays on the line until the dispatcher confirms that officers are on their way. I switch on every light in the store and remain behind the counter with Murphy pressed against my ankle.

“Maybe they wanted shelter from the rain,” Birdie says, although she doesn’t sound convinced.

I point toward the back door. “They tried the knob.”

She adjusts her grip on the brass candlestick. “Maybe they thought this was another business.”

“The store’s name is painted on the door.” I keep my voice low as I glance at the security feed again.

I move closer to the door without touching the handle. Someone scraped something against the lock, tried the knob, and left when they realized we were inside.

Murphy presses closer to my leg as I stare at the locked door.

Maybe they weren’t trying to get inside today. Maybe they were making sure they could come back when I was alone.

10

ANDREI

Harris calls at three o’clock. I’m standing at the window in my office, watching rain darken the production yard, when his name appears on my phone. Drew assigned him to Cassie after the tasting. He wouldn’t interrupt me without reason.

“Report,” I say, turning away from the window.

“A man tried the rear door of the bookstore.” Harris breathes harder than usual, and wind moves across the telephone. “He approached from the east end of the alley and stood near the recycling bins until the women entered. Once the door closed, he crossed to it and used a thin piece of metal around the lock.”

I picture Cassie standing just inside the door while a stranger works at the lock. “Blyat! Where is he?”

“I lost him behind Main Street. When I moved toward him, he ran through the passage beside the pharmacy. I followed him through two service yards, but he went over a fence and through a gate before I could reach him. A dark car pulled away from the next street while I was behind the building.”

“Did he get into it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“I couldn’t see the street from the yard. By the time I reached the corner, the car and the man were gone.” Harris pauses to breathe. “I just got back to the bookstore. The police are here now.”

He made the right choice, though it does little to cool my anger. The stranger reached Cassie’s door and tried the handle while she stood a few feet away. If Harris hadn’t approached, the man might have continued until the door opened.

“Stay with them,” I order as I leave my office and cross the hall toward Drew’s. “Photograph the door after the police finish, obtain the report number, and save every camera recording from the block.”

“Drew already has two men contacting the store owners,” Harris says.

“I’ll call her.” I end the conversation and enter Drew’s office without knocking.

He’s behind his desk with a vineyard map on one monitor and the camera system on the other. Mila stands beside him in jeans and a blue work jacket, studying an image from the lower service road.

“Harris lost a man behind the bookstore,” I tell them. “He was testing the rear lock while Cassie and Birdie were inside.”

Concern crosses Mila’s face. “Are they hurt?”

“No, and the police are with them.” I look at Drew. “Choose a permanent detail for Cassie, with one man beside her and another covering the bookstore.”

Drew reaches for his phone. “I’ll use Harris and Benitez for the first rotation. Both work well around civilians, and should help smooth over any hard feelings she has.”

“Her feelings about it aren’t the priority,” I reply, opening Cassie’s number.

Mila looks between us, then steps toward the door. “I’ll tell Sofia we may have guests tonight.”

“Have her prepare the east guesthouse for Cassie and Birdie,” I say. “They’ll remain here until the detail is ready.”