Page 11 of Knife in the Back (New Orleans #4)

But it wasn’t. Because the cops are here. At this point, only two uniformed officers were here in the workroom to take their statements and another two up front securing the scene, but that was enough.

The cops knew who she was and looked at her like she’d caused this mess.

And Naomi guessed that she had. In a way, anyway.

As soon as the van alarm had started to blare, Val had tucked her away in the corner of the workroom that was farthest from the door, where she could hide behind the boxes of vases in the event the building was breached.

Which it had been thirty seconds later, with the rat-a-tat-tat of semiautomatic rifle fire followed by the crashing of glass.

In her mind, she could still hear Sylvi’s scream and Val’s anguished cry in the immediate aftermath of the shooting. And then Phin’s bellow of rage.

Val had run out to the front, returning almost immediately to tell Naomi that everyone was all right, that Phin had pushed Sylvi down behind the counter. Sylvi and Phin had followed Val back to the workroom, because it was the most secure room in the shop.

Naomi’s heart had skipped another beat when she’d seen the dog in Phin’s arms—his service dog, a sweet golden retriever named SodaPop. The dog’s paw had been cut by a shard of glass from the shattered window. It was a small wound, but Phin was shaken.

The service dog aided Phin with the PTSD he’d developed during his service in the army. Of course he’d been shaken at the sound of gunfire. Of course he was furious that his dog was hurt, even if the sweet girl would be okay.

I shouldn’t be here. I’ve caused so much trouble.

But she couldn’t leave. She couldn’t even move. She was frozen in place, just trying to breathe.

Because the two uniformed officers were staring at Naomi. The man—Ferguson, a rookie cop she’d never met—was studying her with a detached curiosity that made her feel like a bug under a microscope.

The other cop’s attention was far worse because Naomi had known her.

Had processed evidence for her. Six years ago, Nora Langley had always regarded her with a mixture of disdain and condescending pity that had made Naomi feel…

less . Like she was only a pair of hands.

Not a real cop. The same way that Jimmy had treated her.

Today Langley’s expression was one of open contempt and scorn.

And suspicion. As if she was hoping—even expecting—to catch Naomi doing something illegal so that she could send her back to prison.

“Is this everyone?” Ferguson asked.

“It is,” Sylvi said, standing at Naomi’s side, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

“I need everyone’s name, occupation, and relationship to the shop,” Langley said, her eyes narrowed, her mouth twisted into a sneer as Sylvi started the introductions.

“I’m Sylvi Kristiansen, shop owner.”

“Val Sorensen. I’m Sylvi’s sister. I’m here to deliver flowers since it’s the busy season.”

“Phin Bishop.” He gently stroked SodaPop, now curled up comfortably on the worktable. “I’m a friend, here to help load the van with deliveries.”

They’d only had time before the police arrived to make sure that they were all okay, to call Broussard, and to agree not to mention the threat Detective Gaffney had made to Naomi on Friday afternoon.

Naomi became aware of the silence in the room, broken when Sylvi, still rubbing Naomi’s back, gently called her name.

Naomi cleared her throat. “Naomi Cranston. I work for Miss Kristiansen.”

Officer Langley made a scoffing sound. “I hope Miss Kristiansen watches her cashbox.”

Sylvi straightened in indignation. “Do you have questions for us, Officer Langley? Because if you don’t, I’m going to start sweeping the floor of my shop.”

“You have to wait until Forensics is done,” Langley said coolly. “So…what happened?”

“We have security camera footage,” Val said. “I can show you. I’ll even get you a copy.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?” Langley said condescendingly. Then she tilted her head. “Sorensen. Why do I know that name?”

“She works for Broussard Investigations,” Officer Ferguson said.

“They’ve brought down some major bad actors in the last few years.

I’ve read the reports. She’s a bodyguard.

So’s he.” He nodded at Phin. “The local news did a piece on service dogs a few months back, and he and his dog were mentioned.”

“Bodyguards, huh?” Langley asked skeptically. “And you both just happen to be here?”

“I’m a sister, too,” Val said. “I come in occasionally to retrieve boxes from the top shelves because my little sister is too short to reach.”

Sylvi gave Val a dark look that was purely for show before turning to Langley. “They were here to help us. Normally Naomi and I can handle day-to-day operations, but I have a ton of business this time of year. Lots of people are having Mardi Gras parties, and they hire me to provide the flowers.”

All of which were currently stored in the industrial-sized refrigerator that took up one whole wall of the workroom. They needed to get those flowers delivered or Sylvi would lose so much business.

Focus, Naomi.

Because Langley was staring at her again. “How long have you worked here?”

“A year.” Since I got out of prison. But Naomi wasn’t going to give Langley the satisfaction of referring to her own incarceration.

Langley smirked. “Does your parole officer know where you are?”

The question was like a sucker punch. “You know I don’t have one of those.”

“Because her conviction was overturned,” Sylvi added, her displeasure clear. “Do you have any questions about the shooting, Officer Langley? Or do you intend to continue insulting my employee?”

Naomi had always thought that Sylvi had hung the moon, but right now she swore Sylvi had hung the stars, too.

“You all look so relaxed,” Langley noted. “She’s practically in the fetal position. I wonder why? Just asking.”

Sylvi gave Naomi’s back a pat before taking her phone out.

She pointed it at the officers and hit record.

“For the record, Officer Langley, we were all doing our jobs when someone tried to break into my delivery van. For whatever reason, they got frustrated and drove around to the front of my shop, where Mr.Bishop and I were preparing arrangements to go into the van. I saw an SUV drive past, the passenger-side window went down, and suddenly someone was shooting. I don’t know how many bullets, but I’d estimate at least twenty or twenty-five?

Mr.Bishop, does that sound right to you? ”

“It does,” Phin said, still stroking his dog. “I pushed Miss Kristiansen down behind the counter, threw myself over her, and dragged my service dog with me. It was over in a matter of seconds.”

If Naomi didn’t know better, she’d swear that Phin hadn’t a care in the world. But his right hand never left SodaPop’s coat and his left clenched the edge of the worktable so tightly that his knuckles were white.

In that moment, Naomi wished she had a dog, too. But she channeled Phin’s calm and lifted her chin, returning Langley’s stare.

Because I didn’t do anything wrong. Not six years ago and not today.

“Please turn off the camera,” Langley said briskly. “You’re escalating a situation that can be easily handled.”

“Then handle it,” Sylvi snapped, refusing to stop recording. “We were shot at, Officer. And by the way, we’re okay. No, we don’t need medical attention, but thank you for offering.”

Langley had the decency to look a little ashamed at that. “We have medics coming, just in case.”

“That’s so nice,” Sylvi drawled, still recording. “Do you have any other questions?”

“I do,” Ferguson said. “Ma’am,” he added respectfully. “Why your shop? Why do you think they targeted you?”

“Now, that’s a good question,” Sylvi said.

“Thank you for asking it, Officer. I don’t know how to answer it, unfortunately.

The van is new. New to me, anyway. I bought it used.

Had it painted. It still had the temporary plates until just a few weeks ago.

Maybe they thought because I had the money to buy a van that I had money to steal. ”

Sylvi, it seemed, was a master of deflection.

“But why the van?” Ferguson pressed. “Why not hold you up at the register?”

“I don’t know,” Sylvi said. “I watch crime shows on TV. Sometimes bad guys steal vans to use when they’re going to commit more crimes, don’t they?”

Sylvi was amazing.

“Can we see the footage?” Ferguson asked. “Please.”

“Of course,” Val said, producing her own phone. “I have access to the cameras.”

“Why?” Langley asked sharply. “Why do you have access to the cameras in a flower shop?”

“Because my sister lives in the apartment upstairs,” Val said, annoyance edging her voice.

“She lives alone. As Officer Ferguson noted, I work for a private investigator. I see crime every day and I didn’t want my sister to be a victim.

So I gave her a good security system with cameras .

I monitor the system. Because I’m a good big sister. ”

“If you’d asked to see the footage when you first got here,” Phin said mildly, “instead of harassing Miss Cranston, you’d probably have the license plate of the SUV that fired the shots. You could have a BOLO out right now.”

Of course, that would be pointless, Naomi thought. Val had already run a check on the plates, and they belonged to a stolen car.

Langley flushed angrily and held her hand out for Val’s phone, but Val just shook her head and held the phone so that the two officers could see her screen. There was no way Val was voluntarily handing over her phone.

Ferguson leaned in closer. “Okay, so they pull up in the SUV, the guy in the passenger seat gets out, approaches the delivery van, and then…” He frowned. “What’s in his pocket? It looks like an envelope.”

Yes, it had been an envelope, and the guy had been reaching for it with one hand while he tried to open the van with the other. The alarm had gone off, startling him, and he’d hightailed it back to his SUV.