Page 70 of Shadow Justice

Shuffling paper noise came through before Claire’s voice. “Hopper’s out.”

Holly’s hand gripped the rag in her hand. Reid’s posture tightened.

“He has an alibi?” Reid asked.

“For Warren Ackles. Solid enough that we couldn’t hold him. He was on camera at a hardware store in Mesa Ridge within the window for Warren’s murder, and we have a transaction, staff confirmation, and exterior footage. Timing doesn’t work.”

Holly gripped the counter.

“What about the other attacks?” Reid asked.

“We’re still working at trying to place him at those. He isn’t cleared from everything, but he’s no longer the clean answer.”

No longer the clean answer. Holly closed her eyes briefly, thinking of Hopper on Emma’s anniversary, sitting through questions while grief and suspicion pressed against him from all sides.

Claire continued. “Nell Truett is awake.”

Holly’s eyes flew open. “She is?”

“She’s weak, frightened, and still heavily medicated. She can’t describe her attacker. Male, she thinks. Dark clothing. That’s about it.”

“Did you show her a photo of Hopper?”

“Yes. She couldn’t confirm it was him.”

Relief and fear tangled together so tightly Holly couldn’t separate them. Nell was awake. Hopper might not be the killer. The person who had hurt Nell was still out there.

“Can I see her?” Holly asked.

“Not yet,” Claire said. “Family only, and we don’t want to overwhelm her. I’ll let you know when that changes.”

“Please.”

“Reid, I’ve notified the remaining Dodge jurors and coordinated temporary protection or regular checks depending on cooperation and risk level. Some agreed to leave their homes for now. Some didn’t. Local deputies are assisting.”

“I’ve got protection on my grandfather, too, just in case,” Reid said.

“Good.”

The call ended, and Holly tucked the information into places that were already too crowded. Hopper out. Nell awake. Jurors protected.

Midmorning brought a lull after the commuter rush, the kind of pocket in the day when Holly usually checked inventory and pretended she wasn’t counting the minutes until lunch. Maya was in the back loading the dishwasher when the bell over the door chimed and Allen Davies walked in.

Holly knew something was wrong before he reached the counter. His coat was buttoned wrong, one side slightly higher than the other, and his usually neat hair hadn’t been combed. His face carried strain, but beneath it was anger held so tightly it seemed to vibrate.

“Allen,” she said. “Are you okay?”

He looked past her to Reid, who was restocking lids near the pickup counter. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Holly’s stomach tightened. “Of course.” She moved to the corner table where the support group always met. “What’s wrong? Is it about Hopper Shaw?”

His mouth pressed into a thin line. “Not him.”

Reid set the sleeves down and moved closer, cleaning off a table near the side window.

The glare Allen gave him was quick and cold. “I’m being watched,” he said.

Holly’s pulse jumped. “Watched by who?”