Page 10

Chapter 10

Tobias

Sunday morning dawns with a heaviness that's more than just the gray clouds promising rain. I've been up since before five am, unable to sleep, my mind cycling between the injured business owners, Ruth's shop not being protected to the level it should be, and in the back of my head, Michael. He seems to have taken up permanent residence there.

But the main sleep interrupter is who is behind these break-ins? And why? It's clear they are a well organized group. They leave zero traces of themselves, no fingerprints because they wear gloves, no tangible descriptions because of the masks. Shit, even the video of the van shows nothing but a plain white utility van. Nothing special there. I was hoping to get the license plate number of the van but that would have been too easy. The video was too grainy for us to make it out. Another dead end.

Buttoning up my uniform shirt I thought over the decision to handle the strip mall security check myself. At the time it seemed logical to me to handle it myself. Even though I can't have Ruth, her safety is still of primary importance to me. I'd be crushed if something happened to her. But now, as I pull on my uniform and strap on my utility belt, I'm questioning my judgment. Perhaps, I should have taken a different area.

My phone buzzes as I pour my coffee into a travel mug. Law.

"Please tell me you have good news," I answer, foregoing any greeting as this seems to be our preferred method.

"Maybe. Potential sighting of our friend in Texas. San Antonio, specifically."

"San Antonio? What the fuck would he be doing in Texas?" My grip tightens on the phone. "How reliable?"

"The ladies put together a tracking program based on the direction of his travels. They then hacked the cameras along the main highways and interstates. Facial recognition hit on a toll camera in San Antonio."

"Was it a hundred percent match?" I asked, dreading the answer he might tell me.

"No," Law hesitated. "It came back as a forty-seven percent match."

"That's not exactly comforting odds." I lean against my kitchen counter, staring out the window at the misty morning. "Any transactions in the area to back it up?"

"Mouse and Keyboard are searching now."

"Did you share this information with the FBI?" I waited for a response. "Law?"

His answer came across begrudgingly. "No, not yet."

This time it was my turn to pause and compose myself before I spoke. "You know withholding information–"

"I know Tobias, it breaks the rules. I know."

I looked to my ceiling. "There are rules for a reason. The FBI has a bigger reach and more manpower."

"I know, but Michael is my capture. They fucked it up and let him go. I caught him, he belongs to me."

I closed my eyes and silently blew out my breath before I answered. "I get it. You caught a horrible man. But they didn't just let him go. He killed two agents."

"Exactly," I can tell Law is growing more irritated the longer this conversation goes. "Those idiots sent two agents to transport a man whose martial arts training is enough to warrant four agents, at least. They basically asked Michael to escape. I won't let that happen again. This time, me and mine will transport that bastard ourselves. Let's see the little prick pull that stunt with us."

Swallowing, I shook my head. "I get it, I do. But you know in order to make the conviction stick–"

"I know."

"Listen, I know you know what you're doing. I'll give you twenty-four hours to inform the FBI or I'll have to."

Another pause on his side, "Deal." With that, he ended the call and left me with another situation to manage. Fucking territorial bounty hunters. I didn't get a chance to tell him I think he's waiting for his resources. The Texas lead feels wrong. Too convenient. Michael is many things, but careless isn't one of them.

An hour later, I park at the far end of the Whispering Pines Strip Mall, deliberately positioning myself away from Blossoms. Opting to meet with each business between here and hers gives me the time to get my head straight, to remember I'm here as Sheriff Trenton, not as the man who kissed her senseless against the wall of her shop. The man who can never let that happen again.

My first stop, Tech Wizards, a small computer repair shop owned by the Zhang brothers. Through the window, I can see Kevin already helping a customer, while his brother Peter works at the back counter. The bell chimes as I enter.

"Morning, Sheriff Trenton!" Peter looks up, his usual cheerful expression sobering at the sight of my uniform. "Everything okay?"

"Morning, Peter. Just making rounds. Got a minute to talk about security measures?"

Peter nods, motioning me to follow him to a small office area. For fifteen minutes, we discussed their current setup. I'm pleased to see they have a decent alarm system, a camera over the register, bars on the back windows. I also learned the brothers have a taser under the counter and have taken classes on how to use it. Lock boxes for customer equipment, better exterior lighting, a silent alarm button under the counter. The only thing I could suggest is they carry that taser with them as they open in the morning.

"You really think whoever's doing these break-ins might target us?" Peter asks, concern evident.

"Better safe than sorry. They’ve hit businesses already, all with minimal security. Make yourselves a harder target."

I thank him and head next door to Lilacs her window displays change weekly and are the talk of the town.

I cup my hands against the glass, peering inside. The windows are tinted a dark purple from the inside. I can just barely make out that only the back half of the lights are on. I knock loudly, then try calling the store's number. It rings inside, unanswered. Stepping to the side I look in again and don't see any movement. I don't like this situation. I don't like it at all.

"Damn it." I mutter, my hand instinctively moving to rest on my holster.

Given the recent break-ins, and my inability to detect what Michael was up to. I'm not taking chances. I radio in my location and my concern. Mainly to cover my own ass in case there's nothing wrong other than me breaking into the store. I make my way around to the alley behind the strip mall. Rounding the corner I stop in my tracks, Martha's car is parked in her assigned spot. Fuck.

The service entrances for each business line the back wall—some with security bars, others with just standard locks. Lilacs it's painted purple to match the storefront. When I try the handle, it turns easily. Double fuck.

My pulse quickens. Drawing my weapon, I nudge the door open with my shoulder.

"Sheriff's Department!"

No response. The storeroom lights are on and the place is trashed. Clothing and boxes everywhere, racks overturned, some look like they've been tossed against the wall. The small table used for lunches is upside down on the other side of the room. I stepped back out of the shop.

"Charlie Charlie - one Alpha."

"One alpha - Charlie Charlie - go ahead."

"Charlie Charlie - I'm going to need some help here."

"Charlie Charlie - two beta - cancel that, one alpha - I'm right around the corner from your location."

"Ten four, come quietly to the back door."

"Ten four."

I saw Deputy Brooklyn Rogers a moment later. Her eyes went from my face to my gun. She parked her cruiser, got out, and unholstered her weapon.

"What's up?" She asked, stepping in next to me.

"The door was open, the place looked ransacked. I only made it a few feet inside before I stepped out to call."

She took her prepared stance, putting her gun up at shoulder level. "I'm ready when you are."

Together we move as one back into the building. My team and I have practiced for things like this. Little did I know I would need to call on our training. I just filed it away as it was better to be prepared.

As we crossed the backroom, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something's definitely wrong. Reaching the entrance to the front of the store I can see more disarray, clothing scattered across the floor, mannequins parts scattered around, and the cash register on the floor.

I made eye contact with Brooklyn, "Martha?" I called.

A faint moan from behind the counter draws us. There, crumpled on the polished hardwood, lies Martha Reynolds. Blood mats her silver hair, and her round face is already swelling with bruises. One arm is bent at an unnatural angle.

"Martha!" I kneel beside her, holstering my weapon to check her pulse. It's there—weak but steady. "Martha, can you hear me?"

"Bad guys," she manages, her one good eye fluttering open. "They - they - here."

Brooklyn's on her radio calling for an ambulance and for forensics to be notified.

"Shh, don't try to talk." I pull a nearby stack of jackets over and put them under her head.

Martha's breathing is labored, each inhale accompanied by a wince that suggests broken ribs. As gently as possible, I shift her into recovery position, using a folded sweater from nearby to cushion her head.

"Dark was dark. Then, masks."

"Men in masks," I confirm, the familiar pattern sending anger coursing through me.

Even though I advise her not to speak, she keeps trying. Her words come out in whispers, "begged not to hurt me."

A chill runs down my spine. They're out to cause pain, nothing else.

"Help is coming, Martha. You're going to be okay." Brooklyn calls to her. "I checked the rest of the shop. No one's here."

Outside, I can hear sirens approaching.

Glancing around, I can see into Martha's office. The safe door is closed, I'm guessing even though it's in plain sight, it's been untouched.

Brooklyn steps away and quickly returns with the EMTs. I stood and got out of the way.

She and I walked back into the back room. "Looks like the same M.O. as the others. Extreme violence, minimal theft, probably none."

Ten minutes later, the EMTs drive Martha out of the backroom. "She's conscious, but I'm guessing she has a concussion. Looks like something was used to strike her. She's got a broken arm and multiple contusions too."

Brooklyn and I said our thanks for being updated. Deputy Mark Sang appeared.

"Another one?" He asked, moving into the building. "Damn, they had some fun in here."

"Wait till you see the mannequins in the front." Brooklyn said.

"Hey, you want to run point on this one?" I asked her. "I want to see if the neighbors saw anything that can help."

"Sure, I'll run it." Brooklyn nodded. "Good to ask them right away."

As I step outside, I see the Zhang brothers standing next to their backdoor.

"Did they hurt Martha?" Peter asked. "Was it the same kind of robbery?"

"As far as we can tell. Did either of you see anything odd or off this morning?"

The two of them shook their heads no. "Everything was like it always is."

I thanked them and rounded the corner into the main parking lot. Onlookers, concerned business owners and shoppers are all focused on the shop. Among them, standing on the sidewalk out front of her building, is Ruth. She's wearing a maroon dress that makes her copper hair seem even more vibrant. She's talking to Calvin from the hardware store, her expression worried as she glances repeatedly at the boutique.

Before I can overthink it, I stride directly toward her. Her eyes widen as she notices my approach, her conversation with Calvin faltering mid-sentence.

"Calvin." I nodded.

"Sheriff."

"Ruth," I say, my voice more authoritative than intended. "Inside. We need to talk. Now."