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Keeping busy was the only thing helping Sandra retain a fine grasp on her composure. The K-9 unit was arriving as she and Eric were leaving. Brice was sticking around for a bit. He promised to call if anything turned up.
Eric held the door at DiversaBlend for Sandra. It was after eight o’clock by this point, and she couldn’t believe how fast time was going. The sun had fully set, and her heart was breaking as she thought about her daughter not being at home.
Thankfully the coffee shop wasn’t too busy at this hour. Sandra walked straight up to the counter and the smiling young woman standing there. Her brown eyes were bright with intelligence and vitality like Olivia’s. Like her father’s… Speaking of, Nolan deserved to know what was going on. But one thing at a time.
Sandra held up her badge, announced herself, and asked for the manager. The girl’s smile disappeared, and she signaled a passing barista.
“Could you get Charlene? The FBI is here for her.” Sandra wasn’t going to correct things and point out that technically Eric wasn’t with the Bureau.
The barista, who was in her thirties, stopped walking. She took Sandra in, then her gaze traveled to Eric. “Why?” the barista said to the clerk as if they weren’t there.
“I don’t know.” The clerk looked at them.
“There’s a matter we’d like to discuss with Charlene,” Sandra said. It was possible these women could have something to offer if they were here earlier, but it probably wouldn’t go beyond what Avery had already told her. Then again, the creep could have been a regular. Though if so, wouldn’t Avery have mentioned that? Still, there was no such thing as a stupid question. “Actually, before you get Charlene, maybe you ladies could help us.”
“Ah, sure.” The barista came toward the counter, clearly eager to assist.
“Were you two working earlier today from four thirty to five?” she asked.
They both nodded.
“Do you recognize this girl?” Sandra showed them a picture of Olivia. Eric tapped her shoulder, but she dismissed him with a shake of her head.
The young women leaned in, looked at the photo, and quickly pulled back.
“That’s Liv. What about her?” This was from the clerk.
Liv…It was clear she was rather close to her daughter. “You know her?”
“She’s in here a lot around four thirty with a friend.”
“And were they here today?” she asked, though knowing Avery’s answer.
“They were,” the clerk said.
“Did you happen to notice if a man was watching them? Someone paying Olivia a lot of unwanted attention? A guy in a plaid flannel-lined jean jacket?”
The clerk passed a side glance at the barista, then looked at Sandra. “Hey, did something happen to Liv?”
Sandra resisted spinning out at that question.Calm at all times.That was her way through this. How she did things for years with the Bureau. With her professional hat on she was good at isolating her stress and fears, putting them into a tight, dark box, and getting on with things.The daughter of a federal agent…It was outside of herself. In that context, it wasn’t her world being destroyed.
“We’re trying to reach her,” Eric said, stepping in when she didn’t respond.
“Ah, okay.” The clerk ran her bottom lip through her teeth. “But, yeah, I remember a guy wearing that coat.”
The barista nodded. “I remember him too. He had a creepy vibe.”
Sandra would push aside that latter tidbit and focus on moving forward. Nothing good would come from dwelling oncreepy vibe. “He a regular by chance?” Her heart fluttered as she waited for the response.
“Nah, I’ve never seen him before,” the clerk said.
“Me neither,” the barista echoed.
This supported the theory he had targeted Olivia, possibly followed her here. “Can you describe him to us? Beyond the coat?”
“In his fifties,” the barista said, “with brown hair, brown eyes.”
The vanilla description wasn’t going to get them anywhere. They needed the video. “What about an accent?” Her posts with the FBI had been in a rather close geographical vicinity but the question was still valid.