Page 49 of Shadow Justice

Holly always looked forward to Sunday mornings until now.

Sanctuary was closed, Main Street hadn’t fully woken, and the espresso machine sat dark and silent behind the counter.

Normally, she was able to breathe a little easier with the lights off and no one at the counter. She could catch up on paperwork, restock, and bake for the week while listening to her favorite playlist.

Today, however, the empty shop made the past two days feel like a boulder of guilt.

No customers. No music. No hiss of steam. No Maya calling out orders or Roni breezing in with Blue’s leash and opinions.

Just Holly, Reid, and the knowledge that a man had been found dead with one of her cups in his mouth.

She stood behind the counter while Reid waited near the pastry case, giving her room to move through a routine that had never felt less routine. Blue sat by the door, ears up, body quivering with the terrible burden of knowing the dog park existed somewhere in his near future.

Holly had already defrosted the lemon muffins, tucked three into a small white bakery box, and poured Judge Fleming’s coffee into a travel cup. Her hand trembled as she secured the lid, images of Hoyt with a cup jammed into his mouth flashing through her head.

She added two cranberry muffins because Linc always pretended he wanted only one thing and then looked offended when no one offered him a second.

Reid watched her place the cranberry muffins beside the lemon ones. “He asked for one muffin.”

“Your grandfather always asks for less than he wants.”

The corner of Reid’s mouth moved. “That’s accurate.”

“He loves my cranberry muffins. Lucky for him, I have some on hand.”

“He’s had strong muffin opinions for decades.”

“He’s had strong opinions about everything for decades.”

The words slipped out with a warmth Holly didn’t try to hide. She’d known Lincoln Fleming most of her life, though not in the way Roni and Reid knew him. Not as blood. Not as a man who’d raised her. But he’d been part of the safest house she’d known as a teenager, the man who’d looked up from a newspaper and told her to sit down before dinner got cold, as if there had never been a question about whether she belonged at the table.

That old belonging made her chest ache before she even stepped outside.

Reid took the bakery box from her and reached for the coffee. “I can carry both.”

“I can carry the coffee.”

“Blue might try to herd us into traffic. You’ll need your hands free.”

At the sound of his name, Blue stood, tail cutting the air.

Holly narrowed her eyes at the dog. “You’re not helping his case.”

Blue sneezed.

They exited through the rear door. Holly followed Reid with the coffee in one hand and Blue’s leash in the other. The morning had warmed slightly. Sunlight spread across the brick fronts of the shops, soft and gold, and the mountains beyond Blackridge rose blue-gray against a clear sky.

It looked like a day for muffins and dog parks. It felt like a day borrowed from a life that kept getting interrupted.

They drove to Linc’s house in Reid’s truck. Holly sat in the passenger seat with the coffee between her knees and Blue’s breath gusting over her shoulder from the back seat. Reid drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the console, quiet in that way he had when he was thinking too much.

Holly didn’t fill the silence. She had enough inside her without adding more.

The Fleming house sat beneath two old cottonwoods that had shaded the front yard for as long as Holly could remember. White siding, dark green shutters, a wide porch with a swing that still hung from chains near the left rail. The flower beds were bursting with tall bearded irises. Coraline Fleming would’ve been proud to see their bright colors welcoming folks to the house.

The flagstone path had a few weeds in the cracks, but the house looked solid and familiar, as if it had held its ground out of pure stubbornness.

Holly’s throat tightened the instant Reid parked at the curb.