Page 38 of Bennett (HC Heroes #15)

“Which makes this more calculated than it looks,” Bennett added, his voice low. “Not just some random creep.”

Gabe nodded. “We’ll dig deeper.”

Laurel hesitated, then said, “There was another guy. He stepped in before Sinjin. Tall. Moved like he knew what he was doing. He stopped this Rick guy.”

She’d like to thank him.

Gabe and Bennett exchanged a glance. It wasn’t long, but it was weighted.

“Sinjin said someone stepped in before he arrived,” Bennett said finally. “Tall guy. Didn’t say much. Intervened then disappeared.” Bennett’s jaw ticked slightly.

“We’re going to need to talk to him,” Gabe stated. “Sinjin didn’t get a look at his face. Just that the guy knew exactly what he was doing. Military, he suspected.”

Bennett’s eyes locked on hers. “Do either of you know him?”

“He’s eaten here a few times,” Annie replied

“I don’t know his name,” she said slowly. “But I’ve seen him before. The night someone left that note in the break room. He was in the diner. Didn’t say anything then, either.”

Gabe straightened a little. “And you’re just now telling us this?”

Laurel shrugged tightly. “I wasn’t sure what I saw at first. But today, he stepped in. Got the guy to back off, then vanished.”

Bennett’s voice was calm but tight. “Did you see anything else?”

She nodded. “He has a burn-type scar. On his right hand. By the thumb and index finger. That’s how I recognized him.”

Bennett went still.

Too still.

Not the alert kind of stillness she’d seen when he was scanning a room or tracking a threat. This was different. It was quiet and internal, like something had slammed into him from behind, and he was trying not to show it.

Gabe pulled out his notepad, already scribbling down answers she gave about his description. “Whoever he is, you’re not the only one he’s watching out for. We’ll run it. And if you see him again—”

“I’ll tell you,” Laurel said, meaning it. “But I don’t think he’s the threat.”

“No,” Bennett murmured. “I think he’s something else entirely.”

She swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, Bennett’s gaze shifted toward the back door. “Need to check your camera feed out back.”

Gabe tucked his notepad into his jacket. “Let’s pull the footage.”

Laurel watched them head for the small storage room behind the kitchen but didn’t follow. Something about Bennett’s voice and the way it had gone flatter, quieter, had lodged under her skin like a sliver she couldn’t quite dig out.

She’d seen him alert, annoyed, amused. But this? This was closed off. Controlled. And that control made her stomach twist.

Annie shifted beside her on the couch and took another sip of tea. “He knows something,” she said quietly.

Laurel nodded. “Yeah. And he’s not ready to say it.”

“You going to let him get away with that?”

“For now,” she replied with a sigh. “But only because I want to know what that footage shows.”

She stayed still for a beat, then pushed to her feet.

Annie raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word as Laurel slipped out of the office and crossed through the back hallway.

By the time she stepped into the storage room, Bennett was standing at the small wall-mounted monitor, arms crossed as Gabe queued up the footage. The screen flickered, time-stamped video playing in jittery black and white.

Laurel moved to stand beside them, her gaze scanning the feed.

“Go back a little,” Bennett said.

Gabe rewound to five minutes before Annie stepped outside.

The alley sat quiet. Still.

Then a shadow moved in the far corner—quick, barely noticeable. A man stepping into frame, glancing up at the camera. Rick Nolan.

Then…nothing.

The screen fuzzed briefly. A single skip. Less than a second.

“Did he just—?” Laurel started.

“Tampered with the lens or covered it,” Bennett muttered. “Right before Annie came out.”

Gabe slowed the speed as the next few minutes played. The feed returned just in time to catch Bennett rounding the corner.

Gabe straightened. “That’s not a random act. He knew where the camera was. He was buying time.”

Laurel folded her arms tight. “To do what? Threaten Annie without a record?”

“Or deliver a message,” Bennett said. His voice was quiet again, but not distant this time. Focused. “That’s not something you do unless someone told you exactly where to stand. Or he cased the place first.”

Neither of those sat well with her.

“We’ll know soon,” Gabe said. “I’ll run him through the system and see who he’s worked with.”

“I want to look at the site logs,” Bennett added. “See if he’s been near the project before.”

Laurel’s stomach twisted. “He has. I’ve seen him. Not often, but enough that he blended in.”

Gabe’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then looked at them. “Dale says Rick’s in holding and hasn’t lawyered up yet. I’m heading back.”

After the sheriff left, the place fell quiet again, except for the cook grilling burgers and the soft hum of the nearby cooler.

Bennett shifted, clearly ready to move, either toward the exit or toward whatever lead came next. But Laurel stepped into his path before he could.

“You know who he is, don’t you?”

Bennett didn’t pretend not to understand. His jaw flexed once, slow. “I’m not sure.”

“That’s not a no.”

His gaze met hers, steady but unreadable. “No, it’s not.”

Laurel’s heart pounded in her ears. “Why won’t you tell me?”

She continued to stare at him, searching for anything she could hold on to in his expression. But all she saw was the same frustration, the same weight he always carried tucked just behind his eyes.

Laurel exhaled. “He helped us. And I think he’s watching over me, not watching me. So, whatever this is? I need to know. Not later.”

Bennett didn’t answer at first. He also didn’t pretend to misunderstand. His jaw flexed once, and for a long moment, she didn’t think he’d answer.

Then he nodded. Just once. “Yeah. I do.”

Laurel reached up to set a hand on his arm. “Then tell me.”

He looked at her, and his expression shifted just enough for something real to show through.

“His name’s Theo,” he said quietly. “Theo Vaughn.”