Page 154 of Nobody Told Me Thrift Shops Sell Stolen Dragon Heirlooms

I looked up from my notes. “Running away metaphorically?”

Moira turned her laptop slightly. “Possibly literally, once he knows we’ve filed. He’s registered for a charity 10K this weekend, a trail race next month, and something called the Hudson Valley Charity Mud Gauntlet, which sounds like a cry for help.”

A few people smiled weakly.

Rafe didn’t.

Helena tapped one finger against the complaint draft. “We need him served.”

Silence settled over the room, and suddenly I heard myself say, “I’ll do it.”

Moira turned to me. “Quinn.”

Helena’s gaze landed on me. “You’re not a process server.”

“No,” I said. “But I know where he’ll be this weekend. Moira just told us.”

I looked down at the race page Moira had pulled up. “It’s public, right?”

Moira glanced at me. “The charity 10K? Yes.”

“Big parking lot?”

“According to the course map, yes.”

“And he’ll be tired afterward.”

Cressler peered at me. “Where are you going with this?”

I turned the idea over once, checking the pieces before I said it out loud. Public event with lots of witnesses. Fenwick exhausted enough to be slower but still alert enough to notice a dog where a dog shouldn’t be.

“What if we don’t approach him like process servers?” I said. “What if he approaches us?”

Moira pressed her lips together.

On the screen, Rafe’s gaze became serious.

Helena didn’t smile. “Serving him in a public parking lot still requires approaching him before he recognizes the attempt.”

“I have an idea.”

“No,” Rafe said.

Every head in the room turned toward the screen.

I lifted my chin. “You haven’t heard it.”

“I have heard enough plans from you to recognize the tone.”

“Just let me finish.”

“Quinn.”

The way he said my name made my skin heat, which was deeply unhelpful in my current setting.

Helena looked between us. I could feel the whole team pretending not to notice the temperature shift.

“What’s the idea?” Helena asked.