Marissa focused on breathing slowly in an attempt to calm her nerves. She’d had her life threatened before, but she’d never been alone in her troubles. She closed her eyes and prayed for courage, justice, and a quick recovery for Randon.
The tapping sound of Kristin’s acrylic nails against the desk interrupted her thoughts. She peeked up to find the bleached blonde receptionist leaning forward over her desk as if impatient for the latest gossip. “Your wedding coming up?”
There had been an attempt on Marissa’s life, and this was the latest gossip? “Yeah. Dress fitting tomorrow.”
“You’re so lucky. Connor is the most eligible bachelor out there. Or he was, I should say.”
Marissa sighed. She was lucky to still be alive for the upcoming ceremony. “Yeah.”
Kristin continued to stare, which was not helping Marissa’s edginess. “I heard Randon Evans is in a coma.”
Marissa twisted her fingers together. She’d stop by the hospital after this to check on him. “Hopefully not for long. Then he can help identify the guy who was…”
A bald head appeared in the hallway.
Marissa’s heart rate lurched. She stumbled backwards and gripped a chair for balance. Adrenaline surged through her like a triple shot espresso. She grabbed a stapler off the desk to use in self-defense.
Why was the gunman out here? Shouldn’t he at least be handcuffed? Had he hurt Griffin and gotten away?
The man’s head turned. Brown eyes met hers. Brown, not green. Though just as penetrating.
This man set a hat on his head. It resembled the one worn by Smokey the Bear but with a gold star on the front. The collar to his uniform hid his neck, but it was the kind of uniform worn by law enforcement.
She was safe.
Kristin tugged her stapler free from Marissa’s grip and returned it to her desk. Some weapon. “Meet Deputy Adrian Romero.”
Marissa clutched her fingers together again. Hopefully nobody had noticed her jumpiness.
Deputy Romero strode forward and reached for her hand.
Oh, yeah. She should shake. She squeezed his rough palm tightly in hopes that he couldn’t feel her tremble. “You must be new here,” she said.
She hadn’t seen him around town that she could remember. Or maybe she had, and she simply didn’t remember because she hadn’t had a reason to fear bald men until now.
“I transferred in.” That told her nothing. Where did he transfer from? Did his dark skin come from his heritage? Did he own green contact lenses?
She shook the crazy thought out of her head to trail after him down a hallway. She assumed he wanted her to follow from the curt tilt of his head, though he didn’t actually say so. He waited at a door for her to enter first.
She eyed him again then peeked into a dim, dusty room with little furniture. Of course, had it been decorated for high tea, she wouldn’t have even noticed. All her attention focused through a window into another room where half a dozen men milled about.
Her gaze zeroed in on a black neck tattoo. It was the same one she’d seen before.
The guy with the tattoo leaned against a wall and rubbed his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. If this was the guy Griffin claimed to have caught shirtless, someone had since given him another shirt.
How could he be so nonchalant after attempting murder? Was it part of his military training? Or was he a psychopath?
She saw the deputy enter the other room before she even realized he’d left her alone. He lined up the men. They were all bald and had dark skin, though their heights and weight varied. Only one of them had the tattoo.
Footsteps tapped behind her.
She whirled and grabbed a mop from the corner.
Griffin stood there, thumbs hooked on his belt. “I know this place is a little dirty, but try to focus, Marissa.”
At least she hadn’t whacked the sheriff over the head. She set her makeshift weapon down before Griffin realized she was prepared to use it like a bo staff. “Sorry.”
Griffin planted himself next to her and gazed into the other room. “Do you recognize any of these men?”
Without a word, Deputy Romero pointed for the men to line up along the far wall.
Marissa studied them all. “Is number three the guy you caught downtown? Cash Hudson?”
Griffin crossed his arms. “Is he the man who came after you?”
“I recognize his tattoo.” Was there a possibility she could ID the wrong man? Then it would be all her fault that a killer was set free and an innocent man was sent to jail. “But I can’t really see the color of his eyes from here.”
Griffin leaned over a slim microphone in the wall that she hadn’t noticed before. “Number one, please step toward the mirror.”
The first guy crossed the room to come face to face with her. He had facial hair that could not possibly have grown in the span of an hour.
“Not him.”
“Number two, step forward,” Griffin barked.
The first guy traded places with a second. This one had green eyes, but his ears stuck out. And he had a pointy chin. He didn’t look nearly as menacing as the man who’d turned a gun on her.
“No.”
“Number three?”
The man with the neck tattoo stepped forward, his green eyes rolling as if his presence here was ridiculous. But then he lowered his gaze toward the glass like he was looking straight at her and mocking her authority as a witness.
Her skin burned in righteous indignation—fear manifested in anger.
The man crossed his light green eyes then snickered at his own sense of humor.
The contents of her stomach roiled at the idea he could make light of attempted murder. She might be sick. “That’s him.”
Griffin nodded. “Number three, say the following phrase: Give me the files.” That was one of the phrases she’d overheard from the photobooth.
The sharp angles of the man’s face hardened for an instant, but then he lifted his chin as if to gaze down his nose in challenge. “Give me the files,” he said in a monotone of boredom.
Griffin looked at her. “Does that sound like him?”
“I’m pretty sure.” She wanted to say yes. Even if the guy wasn’t the gunman, he should be imprisoned for his arrogance alone. “Have him say something else. Like, ‘I’m guilty of pistol-whipping a man and chasing a woman with a gun, but, despite her reputation for clumsiness, she was still faster than me.’”
Griffin cocked his head and blinked slowly. “Or…” He turned back to the microphone. “Say: I traced your computer location.”
The man rubbed his pointy cheekbone. “I didn’t even know you could do that.”
What a liar. Did he really think being difficult would make him less of a suspect?
“Say it,” Griffin barked.
The suspect shrugged. “I traced your IP address.”
Griffin hadn’t said “IP address.” Marissa looked at Griffin to see if the slip could be used as evidence. Griffin smirked with success. They both knew they had the right guy. Now they had to prove it.
Tandy pulled her hot hair off her neck and twisted it into a ponytail on the top of her head. Working without Marissa was twice as hard, though it seemed like customers had cared more about hearing what happened to Randon than about ordering a drink. She was so ready to flip their “open” sign to “closed.”
The bell chimed over the door, signaling the entrance of another customer, and she did her best not to groan. She needed to go home and pick up Cocoa for his competition in the Star-Spangled Pet Competition. Never before had she willingly dressed her Pomeranian in people clothes, but moving to the small town was starting to have an effect on her.
“Tandy, are you okay?” asked Billie, the older Asian woman who ran the antique store from across the street.
Tension drained from Tandy’s shoulders. She didn’t mind a visit from the lady she considered a mentor. “I was watching the parade when Randon was attacked, but they caught hi
m. Marissa is identifying him at the police station now.”
Billie held a hand over her heart. “Thank you, Jesus.”
Joseph Cross stood next to her, putting the suit in suitor. Had Tandy not known the silver-haired tycoon from past experience, she would have assumed his getup had to be a costume much like Greg’s. But no. The man was always prepared in case paparazzi needed to snap his photo for the cover of GQ. How was he not drenched in sweat?
The gentleman cleared his throat. “Do we know why Randon was attacked?”
Tandy wiped a cloth over the counter. If these guys weren’t going to order drinks, she could clean up now. “Randon wouldn’t give him a file he wanted. The gunman ended up taking his whole computer.”
Cross stroked his well-trimmed whiskers. “Hmm…”
Tandy stopped her wiping to study him closer. “What do you know?”
“You can tell her, dear.” Billie rubbed his back. “It could help this case.”
Tandy’s eyes widened. How could the businessman possibly be involved?
He grimaced. “About a month ago, a hacker installed ransomware into my company computers.”
Tandy stood up straighter. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
“I paid the fee to get it back because I needed to access information to keep business running, but I hired an investigator to try to track down the hacker.”
Tandy’s heartbeat screeched to a stop. The crime could have been happening right there in Caffeine Conundrum. Had she seen Cross’s investigator? Had he pumped her for information without her realizing it? If she’d been asked directly about who she would suspect of the crime, she would have pointed a finger at Randon as the only one in the area who was capable. And he also had the history of taking down Ohio Power. Was that why he’d been attacked? “What did your investigator find?”
“Nothing concrete yet. Though I suspect if a lot of local businesses were hit by this cybercrime, and someone else discovered Randon was involved, they might retaliate by targeting him directly.”
It made sense. Except for one thing. “The man who attacked Randon isn’t local. And he’s not a business owner. He’s a military veteran.”
Cross stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Then the attacker has experience in tactical maneuvers and might have been hired for the job.”
Tandy blew out her breath. “A hitman?” That meant whoever hired him was still on the loose.
Cross nodded. “Hopefully my consultant will dig up some proof, so the prosecutor has a motive to pin on the attacker.”
That would only help if Cross went to the police. “Does Griffin know about this at all?”
Cross laughed like she’d told a joke.
Billie patted his back again. “No need to be impolite, dear. It’s a valid question.”
“Sorry.” Cross took a deep breath. “Griffin isn’t the stealthiest investigator, and I didn’t want Randon to be tipped off that I’m onto him.”
Tandy quirked her lips. Cross didn’t have to worry about Randon being tipped off anymore.
Billie jumped in. “Of course, we’re worried about him.”
“Of course.” Cross’s eyes darted away.
“No matter what he’s done, we don’t want him to be injured.” Billie might not be speaking for the both of them, but hopefully Cross let her soft heart make him a better person.
Billie’s influence had already made Tandy a better person. She waited for Cross to look at her again. “Randon risked his life to save Marissa. She might not be alive if not for him.” The thought threatened to squeeze her throat shut.
Billie gasped.
Cross nodded in acknowledgement. “Well then, I’m thankful for that.”
“Poor Marissa. That had to be terrifying.” Billie adjusted her red-framed glasses and looked up at her beau as if expecting to see him tear up alongside her.
Tandy eyed the older man one more time. He didn’t seem any more remorseful than when they’d first entered, but he wouldn’t have been the one to hire Cash Hudson, would he?
Chapter Four
Tandy readjusted the star-spangled bandana around her fluffy little dog’s neck and adjusted the sunglasses on his snout. Too bad Greg had work to do to make up for helping them at the parade earlier and wouldn’t be able to see Cocoa in costume. She’d better take a picture of him now while she could before her dog figured out how to escape the getup. She pulled out her phone and squatted to frame the white park gazebo in the background.
“I see someone has changed her mind about dressing animals up in people clothes. You might start to fit in our small town after all.”
Tandy glanced over her shoulder to find Connor with his black lab, Ranger. Or should she say, Connor and Wyatt Earp? His dog had on a cowboy costume, complete with hat, chaps, and sheriff’s badge. If one looked at him from the front, he appeared to be a person with a dog face.
She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. Though now that she was seeing how seriously pet owners took this competition, she was the one who didn’t stand a chance at winning a trophy. “Cocoa looks like Joe Cool. As for Ranger, I’m not even sure what his costume has to do with Independence Day.”
Connor pointed to the sheriff’s badge. “He’s star-spangled.”
“With that lone star, the only one in competition with him is Griffin.”
Connor crossed his arms. “Ranger could beat Griffin at sniffing out clues with one of his fake costume arms tied behind his back.”
A throat cleared. Tandy spotted Griffin and Marissa strolling up behind Connor before he turned around.
“Nice to know you appreciate all this hard work I do to keep our town safe, Thomas.”
Connor laughed at himself and their good-natured rivalry before turning serious. “You know I do. Especially when it involves arresting the man who pulled a gun on my fiancée. Did you identify him, hon?”
Marissa’s smile didn’t light up her face in its usual way. “Yes. I hope that’s enough to send him to jail for good.”
Connor wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Ranger licked her toes. She wasn’t alone in this, and she quite possibly wasn’t the only witness they had anymore either.
“Sheriff.” Tandy picked up Cocoa’s sunglasses from where he’d knocked them into the grass. She’d worry about them later. “Joseph Cross came into my shop earlier and mentioned that his company had recently been attacked by ransomware. He assumed Randon was involved and hired a private investigator. He thinks that perhaps someone else might have hired Cash Hudson as a hitman for revenge.”
Griffin looped his thumbs on his belt and narrowed his eyes. “Why didn’t Cross come to me? That’s kind of suspicious.”
Oh, boy. Tandy didn’t want Griffin wasting his time investigating Cross, but she also didn’t want to give the real reason Cross hadn’t gone to their local law enforcement. The Sheriff was starting to earn respect in town, and the truth could affect his confidence. “Uh…”
A microphone screeched with feedback. Mayor Kensington tapped on it from his position in the gazebo. “Welcome to the nineteenth annual Star-Spangled Pet Costume Competition!”
The crowd cheered. Dogs barked. Griffin continued to wait for an answer to his question.
The mayor cleared his throat. “I’d like to begin by inviting all our cute contestants up on stage.”
Tandy never imagined she’d be so happy to have Cocoa in a costume contest. She dropped to one knee to stick Cocoa’s glasses back on him. “Gotta go. We can talk about this later.”
Griffin shook his head. “Is this really your priority?”
Tandy stood and let Cocoa prance ahead of her proudly, tongue hanging out of his mouth. “If we win, it’s good publicity for Caffeine Conundrum. And we’re probably going to need all the good publicity we can get with the number of crimes that have been taking place there.”
Marissa clapped as they passed her. “Go, Cocoa.”
Connor followed behind with Ranger.
“Go, Ranger
!” Marissa cheered.
Tandy clicked her tongue as Marissa fell in step behind them. “You can’t cheer for both of us, Marissa. You need to cheer for the dog that will benefit our business.”
Marissa walked her to the gazebo steps, though with that dazed expression, she wasn’t focused on the competition. “You really think someone hired Cash Hudson as a hitman? That’s so scary.”
Tandy took a deep breath and climbed the steps. Nervous energy buzzed through her, and it wasn’t from stage fright. “I don’t know, but if so, at least he’s behind bars.”
Marissa remained on the grass, but Connor climbed up after Tandy to join six other dogs in costume. He’d been right about Cocoa’s costume not being able to compete. There was a large white dog actually painted with red stripes and blue stars, a chihuahua wearing a shiny flag like a cape, a wiener dog in a hot dog costume, a pug in a sequined tie, a Husky dressed like Uncle Sam, and a cocker spaniel in a red, white, and blue tutu.
The owner of the ballerina contestant looked Tandy in the eye as she took her place next to him. He appeared to be in his mid-40s with the appearance of someone who used to be attractive before living a hard life, but it was his intense eye contact that made Tandy do a double take. There was nothing extraordinary about the shape or color of his eyes. They were narrow and blue-gray with feathery eyebrows that lightened enough on the outside that they seemed to disappear. But he watched life around him as if he hadn’t yet remembered he was Jason Bourne.
“Hi,” she greeted, hoping he’d take his intense scrutiny elsewhere.
“Hi,” he said with some kind of an accent. Maybe he wasn’t Jason but a spy from another country.
He looked at her a little bit longer like he expected her to say something else, then he focused his attention on Mayor Kensington. Tandy turned toward the Mayor, as well.
“When I call your dog’s name, please step forward, turn in a circle, and take a bow.”
Tandy watched the first couple of contestants do their thing. The white dog circled too quickly, wrapping up his owner with the leash. The chihuahua yapped at the audience instead of turning. If the contest were judged on performance as well as costume, Cocoa might have a chance.
A Latte Difficulty Page 3
