Chapter 106

Chapter 106
Chapter Title: The Burner Trail

Kathy

The cool evening breeze was a welcome relief as we stepped out of the urgent-care clinic, although it carried the unmistakable smell of trash and urine from the alley beside the building.

Outside, we found Detective Tate leaning against the hood of Reynolds' Mustang.

She was dressed casually in a white T-shirt, dark trousers, and black loafers. Her badge hung around her neck, and her red hair was pulled into a messy bun, a few curls framing her face.

"I thought that was you, Reynolds," Tate greeted us, her eyes moving from him to me. "Seems like you're enjoying having a new partner." She laughed. "I saw your car pull up from T&A." She gestured down the street.

I followed her gaze.

Three blocks away, bright lights glowed above a large neon sign bearing the name T&A.

"Benny's still holed up in his joint?" Reynolds asked.

"Yep," Tate replied. "Seems too quiet though. Like the calm before the storm." She nodded toward the clinic. "What happened in there?"

"You know that serial case of missing women we've been working on?" Reynolds said. "We just found out one of them, Marissa Vega, had been coming here before she disappeared. She was here three days before the clinic was broken into."

Tate's expression hardened. "Maybe whoever broke in sent her to scope the place first," she said. "Find out where they kept the supplies, whether they had cameras, the entrances and exits. Then, once they got what they wanted, they killed her." She paused. "Loose end. So what's this got to do with Allison Reed?"

"The restraints stolen from this clinic were somehow used on a longliner where Allison may have been held," Reynolds said. "No confirmation from CSU yet, but we found auburn hair. It could be Allison's."

Tate stared at him. "So our serial case is connected to all this shit?"

"Looks that way."

"Wow." She shook her head. "Whoever's pulling the strings wants every loose end dealt with." Her eyes narrowed. "You think Papa Benny's next?"

"I don't think so," Reynolds said. "I think Emma and Cole are next, if they haven't already killed Kimberly." He glanced at me. "No offense."

"None taken. But Kimberly is leverage," I said. "Divine wants her back. If the killer is smart, he'll ask for a ransom."

"But there hasn't been a ransom." Tate folded her arms. "Unless the Williamsons are hiding it. I'm guessing Divine is negotiating with whoever has her. That's probably the only reason Kimberly's body hasn't floated somewhere along the bay."

"Call me if Benny's men move," Reynolds said. "Someone killed Dorsey's night watchmen before I could get to the junkyard. Poisoned his drink. We still haven't gotten the fingerprint results from the bottle."

"I'll put a rush on it." Tate smiled faintly. "It'll give me a reason to bust that joint wide open." She looked between us. "Where are you two headed?"

Reynolds' phone chimed. He pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen. "Coffee."

Tate laughed. "I'll call you when I need a warrant."

Reynolds grinned. "I'll drive it over personally. Now get your fat ass off my car."

Tate shook her head and pushed herself off the Mustang as we walked toward the car. "Asshole."

I climbed into the passenger seat. "What do you have?"

Reynolds started the engine. "Nick says it pinged at Sweet and Savory."

I turned toward him. "What?"

He didn't answer. He pulled away from the curb.

My stomach tightened. Sweet and Savory was Kimberly's bakery.

As we drove, Reynolds' phone rang. He answered through the car's hands-free system. "Nick, what do you have?"

"It pinged at Sweet and Savory," Nick said. "Then it started moving toward The Greasy Fork."

I sat up straighter.

"Then what?"

"It went off the grid."

Reynolds' hands tightened around the steering wheel. "How long ago?"

"Less than a minute."

"Keep tracking it," Reynolds said. "Someone is using that phone, and I want to know who."

The call ended.

I looked at him. "It pinged at my sister's bakery and then moved toward Archer's diner?"

"That's what Nick said."

I stared through the windshield. The Greasy Fork was only two blocks from Sweet and Savory.

Reynolds glanced at me. "Well, I do need a cup of coffee."

I gave him a look.

He smiled. "And Sweet and Savory makes the best chocolate soufflés in town. My grandmother's a huge fan."

Despite everything, I almost smiled. "She likes Kimberly's soufflés?"

Reynolds nodded. "She was shocked when she heard Kimberly went missing." He turned onto the next street. "My grandmother always said Kimberly was good for Hank." He paused. "Kimberly poured her own money into that bakery. Never asked Divine or Hank for a cent."

I looked out the window, swallowing against the tightness in my throat. "My sister and I have always been independent."

Several minutes later, Sweet and Savory came into view.

Warm light spilled from the bakery's windows onto the sidewalk. Its striped awning fluttered gently in the evening breeze.

But something was different.

The chalkboard sign that normally stood outside the entrance was gone. The display lights had been dimmed.

The bakery was closing.

Reynolds pulled toward the curb.

I stared at the familiar storefront. For a moment, it looked exactly as it always had.

Warm. Safe. Ordinary.

But someone carrying a burner phone had just been here. And then they'd headed toward Archer's diner. Two blocks away.

"Let's go," Reynolds said.

We got out of the car. I reached for the door, and the bell above it chimed as I pushed it open.

The smell of butter, sugar, and freshly baked chocolate filled the small shop. Most of the display cases were empty. A few pastries remained behind the glass, and the espresso machine hummed quietly behind the counter.

Jo was wiping down the counter. She looked up.
"Kathy?"

"Hey, Jo."

Her eyes moved past me to Reynolds. Her expression tightened when she noticed our serious faces.

"Hi, Blake." She set the cloth down. "What's going on?"

"We need to ask you a few questions," Reynolds said. "What time did you close tonight?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. I was just finishing up."

"Did you have many customers in the last hour?"

Jo thought for a moment. "Not really. It's been pretty quiet."

"Can you remember who came in?"

Her brow furrowed. "Why?"

"We're tracking a phone," Reynolds said. "It pinged here several minutes ago."

Jo's eyes widened. "Here?"

"Yes."

She glanced around the empty bakery as if expecting the phone's owner to still be hiding somewhere. "I don't know. I had three customers after six."

"Three?" Reynolds asked.

"One woman bought a box of macarons. A delivery driver picked up an order. And there was a man."

Reynolds straightened. "What man?"

"I don't know. I've never seen him before. I assumed he was a tourist."

"What did he look like?"

Jo looked toward the ceiling, searching her memory. "Average height. Light blue shirt. Sunglasses. Baseball cap. Short hair."

"Anything distinctive?"

She shook her head. "No. That's the problem. He looked completely ordinary."

"Did he buy anything?"

"Coffee and a croissant."

"Did he sit down?"

"No. Takeout."

"How long was he here?"

"Five minutes. Maybe less."

"Did he say anything?"

"Not really. I tried to make conversation, but he wasn't interested."

"Which way did he go?"

Jo pointed toward the front windows. "That way. Toward Main Street."

Reynolds glanced at me. "That's toward The Greasy Fork."

Jo looked between us. "Why are you tracking him?"

"We're trying to identify someone connected to an investigation," I said.

Reynolds nodded toward the door. "Did anyone else come in?"

Jo hesitated. "No, but..."

"But what?"

She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small cardboard parcel.

My stomach tightened.

She looked at me. "Someone left this for you."

"For me?" I stared at it. "Again?"

"Or Kimberly." Jo turned the parcel over in her hands. "I'm not sure."

"Who left it?"

"I don't know."

Reynolds stepped closer. "When?"

"About an hour ago."

"Did you see who brought it in?"

"No," Jo answered quickly. "I was in the kitchen. When I came back, it was sitting on the counter."

"Was anyone else here?"

"Just the woman buying the macarons."

"Did she leave it?"

"No." Jo shook her head. "The woman said a kid dropped it off." She placed the parcel on the counter and stepped away. "Should I have touched it?"

"No."

Reynolds immediately pulled out a pair of gloves and an evidence bag from his pocket. He photographed the parcel, then the counter around it. Only after documenting its position did he carefully pick it up and place it inside the evidence bag.

I watched him examine it.

No return address. No name. Nothing that told us who had sent it.

Reynolds sealed the evidence bag. "We're not opening this here." Then he turned to me. "You said again. You received a package from here before?"

I hesitated. Then nodded. "Inside was an invitation to Cole's event."

Reynolds' jaw tightened. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I didn't know it was important."

"Maybe it wasn't." His eyes dropped to the parcel. "But now we have a package that connects to a burner phone that just happened to ping inside Kimberly's bakery right around the time it was delivered."

He handed Jo his business card. "Any more unmarked packages show up, don't touch them. Call me."

Jo nodded. "Of course."

Reynolds glanced toward the display case. "We really need coffee." He looked at Jo. "Two cappuccinos. And whatever pastries you have left."

Jo gave him a baffled look. "Everything?"

"Everything."

"You got it," she said with a small smile before
turning toward the espresso machine.

Reynolds waited until she was out of earshot. Then he looked at me. "Hastings." There was no humor in his voice now. "You and I need to talk."

I met his eyes.

"No more secrets."

He nodded toward the evidence bag in his hand. "I need to know everything that's happened since you arrived in Crisfield."

His gaze hardened as he stared at me.

"Because I'm starting to think you may be our key."