Page 12

Chapter 12

Tobias

Even after cooling down on the drive back to the station, I'm still frustrated with myself. I shouldn't have kissed Ruth. Again. I definitely shouldn't have walked into her shop and started barking orders like some dictator. But seeing Martha's broken body, knowing how close the violence had come to Ruth's door...and the thought of it being Ruth just ignited a primal need to keep her safe.

I sigh heavily, pulling into my reserved spot at the station. Brooklyn and Mark can handle processing the boutique scene. I need to check in with my other deputies who've been canvassing businesses about security measures. Not to mention an emergency meeting with the Mayor about the break-ins. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. While I like the Mayor, he and I don't always see eye to eye on what constitutes a priority. Mine revolve around the law and safety, his around voters.

Holly meets me at the door, looking unusually agitated.

"Why do you carry a cell phone if you're not going to answer it?" She leads me toward my office. "I tried calling you."

"Sorry, I was dealing with the boutique break-in, then talking to other business owners." I deliberately omit mentioning Ruth. "What's up?"

"The Mayor's assistant has been calling all morning. They want to move the meeting up an hour.”

We both stopped in the hall and looked at each other.

"What kind of bullshit policy is that?" I asked.

"You got me. She kept saying the Mayor requires voice authorization."

"Dude's got too much fucking time on his hands." We continued walking to my office.

"That's not all, the Zhang brothers from Tech Wizards brought something in twenty minutes ago. They said it's video footage of the men getting out of the van. They have an exterior camera for their back door that partially overlooks the alley." Holly hands me a USB drive. "They said they didn't realize until after you left that it might have caught something."

My pulse quickens. "Did you look at it?"

"Yes. It shows four men in masks getting out of a white van around six thirty, this morning." She pauses. "They're all wearing ski masks, but you can see their builds clearly."

I insert the drive into my computer, and Holly leans over my shoulder as the video loads. The footage is grainier than I'd like, but substantially better than anything we've had so far. Three men emerge from the van, all in black, with their masks already in place. The fourth man joins them from the driver's side. They move with precision from a plain white van toward the back of Martha's shop.

I replayed that section over again, then again. "Look at how the three move. That's not flying by the seat of your pants movement. That takes training."

"Ex-military?" Holly suggests.

"Maybe." I rewind and watch again. "Or martial arts. The way he balances when he steps down from the van, that's not average Joe movement."

The men disappear from the frame, presumably entering Martha's shop. The timestamp shows six thirty AM. At six forty seven, they reappear, moving just as efficiently back to the van before driving away.

"There," I pointed at the screen. "See how the first one out is the driver and how he runs for the van? Now, watch the last guy." I press play and the other two men step out of the boutique and hustle to the van. I paused it again. "Now, watch this." Playing it, we see the last man come out of the boutique walking backwards, looking from side to side until someone calls that they are all clear. Then the last guy runs to the van, After that, they take off.

"That's called a rearguard. His job is to make sure the team gets safely away from the scene."

"Wow, so, now we know these aren't amateurs."

"Exactly." I watched the video one more time. "Twenty minutes," I murmur. "Twenty minutes to thoroughly trash the place and assault the owner."

"Do you want me to call everyone in to see this?" Holly asked.

I hesitate. "Not yet. I want to run this by Law first. His team might be able to enhance it more than our equipment can."

Holly raises an eyebrow but says nothing. She knows my history with Law, knows I trust his team's capabilities.

"His team has incredible computer skills. Plus, we'll get it analysed way faster than if we sent it to the FBI labs."

I pick up my phone. "Law, I'm sending you some video footage from this morning's break-in. Any chance your ladies can enhance it?"

"Sure, what are you looking for?" His voice sounds weary, like he hasn't slept.

"Four men in ski masks. I'm curious to know if any of them could be Michael based on height, build, movement patterns."

"You think he's involved in these break-ins?"

"I don't know." I rub my forehead. "But my gut says there's something organized about these attacks. They're too precise, too synchronized. Once you see it, you'll understand my need to know."

"Really?" Law's voice perks up. "Send it over. I'll have the ladies run their analysis."

I email the video file, then pace my office while waiting for Law to call back. Holly brings me coffee without asking, along with a sandwich I didn't request but clearly need.

"You're a lifesaver," I tell her, realizing I haven't eaten since dawn.

"Someone's got to look after you," she replies matter-of-factly. "You certainly don't do it yourself and goodness knows you could certainly use a woman in your life."

I manage a half-smile. "I have you."

"That's not at all what I meant and you know it." She leaves my office yelling over her shoulder, "eat fast, you've got twenty minutes till the mayor meeting."

I could have gone all day without hearing that.

An hour later, I'm sitting back in my office. The Mayor was brought up to date and thanks to the Zhang brothers I was able to hold him off, from calling the Governor for help. I told him we had an outside source helping already. My cell phone rings and I see it's Law.

"Their a well trained group that's for sure," Law reports without preamble. "Unfortunately, less than a twenty percent match probability on any of those men being Michael, based on height, weight, and movement analysis."

I feel a conflicting mix of relief and disappointment. "Could they enhance anything else? Vehicle plates? Distinguishing features?"

"The van has false plates—numbers don't match any registration in the system. As for features, not much, but they did catch that the second one out of the building was favoring his right side. Maybe he got hurt?"

"That's something at least." I made a note. "Any hits on Michael's whereabouts?"

"Nothing concrete since that Texas lead, which I'm increasingly convinced was a decoy. The ladies are watching him hourly. I think he's playing a game. He's been making strategic withdrawals across three states, but none in person."

"Creating a false trail?"

"That's our thinking." Law sounds frustrated. "He's too smart to show himself on cameras."

I hung up after promising to share any new developments. The disappointment is irrational—why would I want Michael to be behind the break-ins? I guess, a known enemy is always preferable to an unknown one.

"Anything?" Holly asks, appearing in my doorway.

"Not Michael, according to Law's team." I lean back in my chair. "But someone organized. Someone with training."

Holly nods, then changes the subject. "I've been thinking about those folks in the hospital. Mrs. Henderson has no family besides her husband. Sue at the bakery just has a sister in Ohio."

"What are you thinking?"

"Maybe we could send them something? Let them know we're thinking about them?" Holly shifts her weight, almost apologetic about suggesting kindness in the middle of an investigation.

It's exactly the kind of thoughtfulness that makes Holly invaluable—not just to the department, but to Whispering Pines. She's the heart of this office, organizing birthday celebrations, remembering officers' anniversaries, bringing homemade cookies when someone's having a rough day. Being the sole administrative staff for a sheriff's department is technically a nine to five job. Holly treats it like a calling.

"That's a great idea." I reach for my wallet. "Let me chip in."

She waves me off. "We've got money in our community care fund. I thought we could send flowers. Something cheerful to brighten those clinical hospital rooms."

My mind immediately goes to Ruth, standing in her shop with her hands on her hips, refusing to be intimidated by me or by faceless criminals.

"Good idea."

"I have to go pick up my youngest for his dentist appointment, if it's not too much trouble can you call the order in to Blossoms? I want to give her enough time and she'll be closed by the time I can call."

"Sure, no problem." I answered. Holly hurries to answer the ringing phone. I'm already playing out the words I'm going to use when Ruth answers.

My finger hesitates over the last digit of Blossom's phone number. After our argument, Ruth might hang up as soon as she hears my voice. Taking a deep breath, I complete the call. It rings four times before connecting.

"Blossoms Flower Shop, this is Ruth speaking. How can I help you?"

Her voice is bright and professional, giving no indication of our earlier confrontation. For a moment, I consider hanging up, having Holly make the call instead. But that would be cowardice and unfair to Ruth.

"Ruth, it's Tobias." An awkward pause. "Sheriff Trenton, I mean."

The silence stretches for three heartbeats before she responds. Her tone is crisp and professional. "What can I do for you, Sheriff?"

The formal address stings more than it should. "I'd like to order some flowers, arrangements, bouquets, for delivery to County General Hospital."

"I see." Her tone remains neutral. "For the business owners who were attacked?"

"Yes."

"Of course." The sound of papers rustling comes over the line. "Let's see, Gerbera daisies for Sue, a purple arrangement for Martha. Yellow and red for Mr. Henderson. I can deliver them tomorrow."

"Wow, how do you know all of that?"

"I've been running this business for a while now."

Not missing her intent with her comment, I kept quiet.

"Want the card to read 'From the Whispering Pines Sheriff's Department'?"

"Yes."

"Need me to bill the sheriff's office?"

"Yes, please." I'm feeling oddly defeated by this businesslike exchange. What did I expect? That she'd forgive my behavior just because I'm ordering flowers?

"Will that be all, Sheriff?"

I clear my throat. "Actually, I was hoping to add one more arrangement."

"Oh?"

"One for Holly. She's..." I search for the right words. "She's the heart of this department."

Something in Ruth's tone softens slightly. "That's very thoughtful of you, I agree, Holly's great."

"She deserves it. Keeps us all functioning, remembers everyone's birthday, brings food when we're working late. Goes well beyond her job description."

"I understand." There's a pause. "Would you like that delivered to the station?"

"Yes, please."

"Consider it done. I've got sunflowers, those are her favorites."

"Thank you." I hesitate, wanting to say more. To apologize, to explain, to ask if she's gotten that taser yet. Instead, I simply add, "I appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Sheriff. Have a good day."

The line goes dead before I can respond. I set the phone down, staring at it for a long moment. Clearly my actions today overstepped some bounds. It's better this way, I tell myself. Safer for her. Simpler for me. Now, to figure out how to stop feeling like I've messed up.