“You know that drug house you came across off duty?”
Gard tried not to stiffen. He’d reported what he’d seen, but not why he’d been there. “Yeah.”
“Is this the guy you saw run out of it?” Beckett held out a picture, grainy, black and white, clearly from some security footage.
Gard studied it—the proportions of the body, the profile of the face. “I didn’t get the best look at him since he was running, but…this doesn’t seem quite right.”
Beckett nodded taking the picture back. “This guy is six-two, two-ten. Scar on the side of his neck.”
“Yeah, definitely not the runner. He was under six feet and scrawny. Does this guy in the picture own the place or something?”
“No. Haven’t been able to track down an owner, but a case I’m looking into had this guy using that address on a job application.”
“No one was living there. I looked through the whole house. No signs of anything but drug use.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m curious. Why use an address that’s just a house full of drug paraphernalia?” Beckett shook his head. “Anyway, thanks. Just wanted to make sure we couldn’t physically connect him.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
Beckett turned and started to walk away, but Gard followed. “Just out of curiosity, what kind of case is it?”
“The Hardy Police Department has been dealing with some reports of possible human trafficking. They’ve asked for some assistance, and it led us to this guy.” Beckett held up the picture. “Might be nothing, just talk, but we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
A little trickle of cold unease crept up his spine. But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t assume Dani’s disappearance was anything but what it usually was.
Except she hasn’t contacted Sammy.
Beckett walked away and Gard stood there, arguing internally with himself. Maybe Dani was connected to that house somehow—drugs no doubt, but the guy he’d seen run out of it was not the guy Beckett was looking for. Thinking Dani had somehow gotten mixed up in a human trafficking ring inHardywas a leap with no real evidence.
He tried to set aside the unease, but it stayed.
And no doubt would, until he looked into it himself.
At two o’clock, Albennie went home, leaving Lia and Sammy to finish up the day together. It was getting to be almost normal.
It was getting to benice. The girl was sarcastic, constantly on her phone, a little self-obsessed…and funny, creative, and genuinely interested in baking. It was like whiplash every day—frustration and fascination. Wanting to help the girl. Wanting to throttle her.
Like right now, when Sammy was purposefully dawdling instead of going out to the main room and cleaning up the tables, which was always her last job of the day. A job she didnotlike and tried to avoid.
“It’s two thirty,” Lia said, speaking loudly to get through the screen-haze Sammy was often in.
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed, not looking up from her phone. Lia could see she was watching baking videos. Which was somehow both heartwarming andirritatingsince the girl wasin a bakeryand had a job to do thatinvolvedbaking, so maybe she could save the videos for home.
“You’re supposed to be cleaning the tables, remember?”
“Yeah,” Sammy agreed, swiping up to the next video. She didn’t move. Clearly, she wasn’t actually listening.
Trying to breathe through her frustration, Lia lost that last grip on patience. She put her fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. Then sharply said, “Sammy.”
Sammy looked up, blinking in confusion. “What?” she demanded in what could only be described as teenage disgust, like Lia was overreacting when Lia wouldn’t have whistled if Sammy hadlistened.
Teenagers. Natural gaslighters.
“It is time to clean the front tables,” Lia said between clenched teeth.
Sammy sighed dramatically but shoved her phone into her pocket and headed for the front room. The bell on the door tinkled at the same time, so Lia followed to wait on the customer.
Sammy stopped short at the archway between the kitchen and the storefront. So abruptly Lia almost ran into her back.
