Page 35 of Shadow Justice

She glanced toward the corner table Allen had used earlier. “What about him? He was a prosecutor up to a few years ago. He and your grandfather must have crossed paths. Allen doesn’t talk much about his prosecutor days. He’s a victim advocate now.” She rinsed her cup and set it in the rack. “He helps people navigate the system after crimes, court hearings, all of that. The group meets here this afternoon.”

“A support group?”

“Yes.”

“You trust him.”

“I do.” She didn’t hesitate. “He helped me when I needed someone who understood the system.”

“I’m glad he was here to help you.”

It sounded like an apology for him not being there himself. Reid turned away and leaned on the counter. Was it? He hadn’t meant it to come out that way.

Holly dried her hands. “He remembered you but you didn’t recognize him?”

“He only remembers me because of Granddad. I get the feeling he wasn’t overly fond of him.” He grinned. Allen wouldn’t be the first to carry frustration over one of Judge Fleming’s rulings.

“Then maybe ask your grandfather.”

“That would require Granddad to answer questions about feelings, professional history, or both.”

“So, impossible.”

“Not impossible.” Reid picked up the tub of clean mugs. “Just procedurally complex.”

That earned him the faintest smile. He found himself caught in it, unable to look away.

The afternoon brought a different atmosphere. Lunch was busy, then cleared into a lull. Holly arranged the back corner for the support group with the same care she gave every gathering. Coffee, water, tissues, a plate of muffins, chairs angled in a loose circle. She didn’t hover once people arrived, but she noticed each of them, greeting some by name and others with a quiet, welcoming smile. Allen got his same mug with his coffee.

Reid kept to the counter, close enough to work and far enough away to look like an employee who had no reason to care what anyone discussed. He didn’t hear specifics from the group, and he didn’t try. The content of the meeting was less important than the room around it.

Allen set a leather folio against his chair leg. He moved through the space with calm authority, greeting people, touching a shoulder here, lowering his voice there. Reid understood why Holly liked him. He made people feel seen, just like she did.

Then the big man from the morning came in.

Reid was refilling the pastry case when the bell over the door chimed. He looked up, and there he was: dark canvas jacket, heavy boots, broad chest, beard, and that same contained watchfulness. He paused just inside the door, scanned the shop, checked the front windows, then the hallway, then the back corner where Allen’s group had begun to gather.

His eyes passed over Reid without recognition.

Holly came out of the kitchen with a fresh pot of coffee and nodded to him. “Afternoon, Hopper.”

“Holly,” the man said. His voice was low, rough, not unfriendly but not open.

“Coffee?”

“Black. Thanks.”

Reid reached for a mug before Holly could, and she let him. Hopper watched the handoff, watched Reid pour, watched Holly step away to check on a customer at the register. He took the mug with a nod and carried it to the support group, choosing a chair on the outside of the circle with his back to the wall and a clear view of the door.

The group settled in. Allen spoke quietly, and the circle responded with a mix of nods, murmurs, and silence. A woman in a navy cardigan kept twisting a tissue in her hands. A younger man in a work shirt stared into his coffee as if it might offer absolution.

Hopper said nothing. He watched the room, eyes moving whenever the bell chimed or a chair scraped. Once, when a delivery driver came in too quickly and the door banged against the stopper, Hopper’s hand tightened around his mug hard enough that Reid saw his knuckles pale.

Reid had known men who watched exits because they were dangerous. He’d known more who watched exits because danger had found them first.

Either category could matter.

When the group ended, Allen remained behind with two members while others drifted toward the counter for refills or to-go cups. Hopper left alone. He didn’t linger, didn’t speak to anyone, including Holly, and didn’t look back as he stepped onto the sidewalk.