Page 74 of Shadow Justice

“Hello, Holly.”

Her fingers curled into the hem of her sweatshirt. “Where’s Reid?”

“Oh, he’s occupied.”

The word was too smooth, too careful. Her mouth went dry as Blue scratched from outside the stairwell door again, claws dragging against wood with frantic insistence.

“Did Reid let you in?”

Allen looked at the cup in his hand instead of answering. “I came back because I owe you an apology.”

She glanced between him and the door. Where was Reid? Why was Blue on the landing?

Allen leaned forward and set the cup on the coffee table. He placed it carefully, turning the Sanctuary logo until it faced her.

Holly’s thoughts slowed to a sick, crystalline clarity.

He reached into his coat and removed a folded napkin. Sanctuary’s logo was stamped in one corner, soft green ink on white paper. He set it beside the cup, then smoothed the edge with his thumb as if arranging a place setting.

Blue scratched harder at the door, whining now, and Holly understood why the dog wasn’t at her side. She understood why Reid hadn’t come upstairs, why Allen had not answered her question, and why the staged cup and napkin looked so horribly familiar on her own coffee table.

Allen hadn’t come back to apologize.

Allen Davies was the killer.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Reid had nearly finished the downstairs lock check when he saw Hopper Shaw through the front window.

The shop was quiet around him, all the chairs tucked in, pastry case wiped down, lights dimmed except for the warm glow behind the counter. Upstairs, Holly was feeding Blue and taking the breath he’d pushed her to take. He should have been relieved that she’d trusted him with the small, ordinary work of shutting Sanctuary down for the night.

Instead, he stood behind the counter with a ring of keys in one hand and watched a man who’d been their best suspect pace outside the shop like he was trying to decide whether to come in or run.

Hopper wasn’t near the door. He stayed on the sidewalk beyond the patio gate, shoulders hunched inside his dark jacket, beard moving slightly when he turned his head toward the alley and then back toward the front windows. He looked wrong for the tidy storefronts of Main Street, too big and restless against the soft evening lights. Reid clocked him as agitated, a man torn between options. He didn’t register as predatory, or even dangerous.

Reid let himself out through the door and locked it behind him. Hopper stopped pacing as soon as Reid stepped onto the sidewalk.

“Don’t come closer,” Reid said.

Hopper lifted both hands, palms out. “Wasn’t planning to.”

“You’re standing outside Holly’s shop after being questioned in connection with multiple murders. Why?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

Reid kept himself between Hopper and the door. “You’ll understand if I don’t take that on faith.”

“Figured.” Hopper’s mouth pulled tight beneath his beard. “Agent Dawson didn’t either.”

“She has reasons.”

Hopper lowered his hands slowly, telegraphing every movement. “I know what it looks like. Hell, if I were you, I’d think it was me, too.”

Reid watched his shoulders, his hands, the angle of his feet. Hopper carried himself like a man accustomed to being read as a threat and tired of proving he wasn’t. That didn’t make him innocent. “Why are you here?”

Hopper looked past him to the dark windows of Sanctuary. “I wanted to talk to Holly.”

“No.”