Page 104 of Duty Unbound

Another pause. “Meet me at the coffee shop in thirty minutes. I have a break between shifts. Let’s go over the scene again together.”

“Thanks, Corey. I owe you.”

“You already owed me, Cross. This just puts you deeper in the hole.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

Thirty minutes later, I stood in the exact spot where Mel’s car had been parked, scanning the area for anything the police might have missed. The coffee shop’s morning rush was in full swing, customers flowing in and out without a care in the world. None of them knew that two days ago, a woman had been taken from this very spot.

Corey’s unmarked cruiser pulled up beside me. He stepped out, looking exactly as I remembered—salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, eyes that missed nothing, and a perpetual five-o’clock shadow.

“You look like shit, Cross.”

“Thanks for the update.” I ran a hand over my face, feeling the rough stubble there. “What can you tell me?”

He glanced around, then gestured toward a bench away from the crowded entrance. Once seated, he pulled out his notebook, flipping through pages.

“Not much to tell you that you don’t already know. Therewere no prints of interest in the car. No forced entry. Nobody saw anything. Only thing weird was the rose petals.”

“The petals were what made us think this was tied to the stalker to begin with.”

“Because of the roses the stalker sent to Nova a few weeks ago,” Corey finished.

I nodded. My exhausted brain had forgotten that Corey had been on-scene for that incident.

“Exactly. But there’s been no word. No demands. So now I feel like we need to consider other options. Is it possible this was a run-of-the-mill crime not related to Nova at all?”

“This area doesn’t see many kidnappings.” Corey tapped his notebook thoughtfully. “It’s an upscale neighborhood. Property crime, sure. Car break-ins, occasional shoplifting. But violent crime? Rare.”

“So, this wasn’t random?”

“Doubtful.” He scanned the parking lot, eyes narrowing. “Most kidnappings we see are domestic—custody disputes, that sort of thing.”

I followed his gaze across the lot. “What about gang activity?”

Corey shook his head. “Wrong part of town. The organized gangs operate mainly on the east and south sides. We get some drug deals in the parks a few miles from here, but nothing this brazen.”

“So we’re back to this being related to Nova.”

“Most likely. But…” He trailed off, his expression thoughtful. “If that’s the case, where’s the ransom demand? Where’s the proof of life? That’s standard procedure for kidnappers who want something.”

My thoughts exactly. “Could be they’re waiting for something.”

“Like what?”

“Tour resumes in a few days. Maybe they’re trying to maximize pressure, give us minimal time to react.”

I thought about Adam Foster, Brooklyn Reed’s manager, who’d been determined to make Mel’s life as difficult as possible. But we’d searched him inside and out. He definitely hadn’t been involved with the raccoon roadkill and was currently taking his break from the tour in Seattle—I’d have Jace double-check that.

“Yeah, that would make sense.” Corey nodded slowly. “Look, I’m happy to interview the barista myself, but it doesn’t seem like she remembers anything distinct about Mel beyond her trying to use a fake coupon.”

I rubbed the back of my neck against the ever-present tension there. “No, that’s not necessary. Logan also got the same info from her.”

“I know this is frustrating, Ethan, but—” His phone buzzed. He checked it, his expression shifting. “I’ve got to go. Homicide downtown. Female victim, gunshot wound.”

My heart stopped. “What do they know about her?”

He looked back down at the info. “Caucasian. Late twenties, early thirties.”

Fuck. “I’m coming with you.”