Page 83 of Shadow Justice

Holly held on tight.

EPILOGUE

One month later, summer had settled over Blackridge with sun-warmed sidewalks, open car windows, patio umbrellas, and tourists who wandered into Sanctuary Coffee looking for caffeine, mountain views, and directions to the best hiking trail that wouldn’t punish them for wearing the wrong shoes.

Holly loved them almost as much as she loved her regulars.

Almost. Tourists tipped well, bought pastries without negotiating with themselves first, and treated the chalkboard menu like a local attraction. They also asked questions with the earnest confusion of people who believed every small town had one clearly marked scenic overlook, one universally agreed-upon lunch spot, and one person willing to explain the parking situation near the lake.

Holly answered what she could, made coffee, smiled when she meant it, and had slowly stopped flinching every time the bell over the door chimed.

That felt like victory.

Sanctuary still carried shadows in the corners if she let herself look too long. There were mornings when she walked in before sunrise and remembered Allen sitting at his usual table, calm and trusted and quietly building a pattern she hadn’t seen. There were afternoons when she caught sight of the coffee cups stacked beside the register and saw the one he’d set on her coffee table instead, the logo turned toward her by hands she had once believed were safe.

But the shadows didn’t get the final say.

Maya laughed behind the counter as she handed a group of tourists their iced drinks, her hair pulled into two braids and a pencil tucked behind one ear. School was out for the summer, and she’d taken to full-time work after surviving finals, a murder investigation, and one catastrophic oat milk spill that Reid referred to as the Great Foam Incident. She was faster now, more confident, and only mildly drunk on the power of being entrusted with the register during rush.

Reid stood at the pickup counter, sliding lids onto drinks and calling names with far more authority than the task required. Shadow Point had reclaimed most of his work hours, but he filled in when Maya needed a break, or he had a free moment and wanted to spend it with Holly. He’d even learned the espresso machine’s quirks.

“Sweet Blue Hero Latte for Kelsey,” Reid called.

A woman in a sunhat came forward, took the drink, and glanced at the hand-lettered sign near the register. “Is Sweet Blue the dog on the patio?”

Holly looked toward the front windows, where Blue held court beneath the shade of the largest patio umbrella. Three patio dogs and two children had gathered around him as if he were offering wisdom, though from what Holly could see, he was mostly offering access to his ears in exchange for admiration.

“That’s him,” Holly said. “Local hero. Terrible at humility.”

The woman laughed. “And what’s in the latte that relates to him?”

“Blueberry, vanilla, and a little cinnamon,” Maya said before Holly could answer. “Not for dogs, of course, but the blue color makes it his. It’s amazing iced.”

Reid glanced toward Holly. “Judge Fleming calls it a dessert in witness protection.”

“Judge Fleming is a beloved customer with strong opinions about blueberries,” Holly said. “We don’t let that influence product development.”

On the counter beside the drink menu sat a small display of Sweet Blue Biscuits, healthy dog treats made with pumpkin, oats, peanut butter, and apple. Holly had started baking them for patio dogs two weeks after the attack, partly because she needed something good to do with her hands and partly because Blue deserved a product line after saving her life.

The biscuits had sold out the first weekend. Now she made them three times a week and had a growing list of patio regulars whose humans claimed they came for coffee while their dogs knew the truth.

The Sweet Blue Hero Muffin had become a bestseller too, though Blue himself was not allowed to sample the human version, which contained lemon and blueberries and had already caused Linc to issue a dissenting opinion.

Sanctuary was full again. Not because nothing had happened, but because something had happened and people had come back anyway. Even Nell, who was out of the hospital and doing well, attended book club again.

That mattered to Holly more than she could explain without crying.

The bell over the door chimed, and Roni swept in wearing a linen blazer over a T-shirt printed with tiny paw prints, black pants with a healthy collection of dog hair, and an expression of professional triumph.

“I have a lockbox app and a license to sell,” she announced. “No one abuse this power.”

Maya lifted both hands. “I would never.”

“You would absolutely abuse it for snacks.” Roni pointed at Reid. “You look like a man prepared to view real estate.”

“I look like a man restocking lids.”

“Same skill set: attention to detail, ability to open doors, suspicion of basements.”