Maybe he met another girl while on break. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell her. Sure, he said he was kind of in love with her, but … no buts. She was a big girl. She could take it. What she couldn’t take was being strung along, and she’d tell him that as soon as they were alone.
He put the truck into drive and they headed out of the lot before someone caught them skipping.
Both locals and tourists were already out and about, grabbing coffee and shopping with the resident artists. He pointed as they drove past the sheriff’s station. Auri ducked her head. Sybil took a different approach. She undid her seatbelt and nose-dived for the floorboard, her gaze darting about like a cornered animal.
Auri fought yet another giggle, but the events of the next few seconds would teach her not to be so quick to judge. She looked past Cruz just in time to see her mother exiting Caffeine-Wah. The woman in full sheriff regalia stopped and watched as the huge truck drove by.
Cruz shrank back and lifted his shoulder to hide as much of his face as he could, but the movement brought Auri directly into her mother’s line of sight. Their gazes locked for a split second before Auri dove for cover. Straight into Cruz’s lap.
With her face firmly in Cruz’s crotch, Auri asked, “Did she see me?”
“She’s still looking,” Cruz said, his voice suspiciously full of humor. “You’d better stay down there for a while.”
Auri frowned. How long could it take to drive past a coffee shop?
Cruz shook as though laughing.
She raised up. “Cruz De los Santos.”
A pair of dimples appeared on the sides of his full mouth and her ire—fake as it was—evaporated.
“Are you sure Mrs. Fairborn is at the station?” he asked, changing the subject.
“I have it on good authority.”
He cast her a suspicious glance. “What kind of authority?”
“I have an inside man.” Auri did everything but blow on her nails and polish them on her shirt.
“Can I ask who it is?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, Charlie. I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. Then where would we be?” She looked down at Sybil, who sat hunkered on the floorboard still. “Sweetheart, you can get up now.”
“Oh. Okay.” She scrambled back onto the seat and pushed her glasses up with an index finger.
They pulled onto Mrs. Fairborn’s street, but parked at the end of the block. After a nonchalant walk down a narrow alleyway, they hauled themselves over a wooden fence.
Well, Auri and Sybil did. Cruz walked through the gate and eyed them both like they were crazy. It happened. He also stopped to give Sybil’s outfit a once-over as though just noticing her cat-burglar attire.
Much like Auri had, he suppressed a grin, turned, and strolled to Mrs. Fairborn’s back door like he belonged there.
“See that?” Auri said to Sybil. “We need to act natural. Like we’re supposed to be here.”
“Right.” Sybil, who seemed on the verge of hyperventilating, took a deep breath and nodded. “Act natural. I can do that. I can act natural.”
Auri wanted to laugh, but she was right there with her.
“We’re in,” Cruz said. He’d been kneeling at the back door. He stood and opened it.
“Wow.” Auri stopped, stunned. “You really did it.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with humor.
“Well, yeah. It’s just …”
She crept forward, gazing into the abyss that was Mrs. Fairborn’s large house—or what looked like a mudroom—keeping a watchful eye as though something was going to jump out at her. Now that it was really happening, she was having all kinds of second thoughts.
Panic took hold. Backing away, she looked between her two friends, and asked, “Who wants coffee?” right before she turned and hightailed it over the fence despite a wide-open back gate.
Zee started the video from where Keith Seabright entered the store. Since the Quick-Mart sat right across the street from the sheriff’s station, the station was in the background of one of the four grainy panes. Unfortunately, all four surveillance angles formed four blocks on the single screen, and there was no way to get only one angle per screen as that was how it was recorded. It made deciphering the details even harder.
“Did Mr. Walden give you any trouble?”
Mr. Walden, the owner of the Quick-Mart, could be cantankerous when he wanted to be.
“No,” Zee said with a shrug. “But he did ask me out.”
“He’s eighty!”
“If a day.”
“Does he know you’re a sniper?”
“He does now,” she said with a smirk. “There.” She pointed to the screen as a lean, fit brunette walked in wearing a T-shirt, a pair of army fatigues, and a few days’ worth of scruff. He paid cash for his gas, looked over his shoulder, then left.
As he exited the store, another man, stockier and wearing a baseball cap, bumped into him. Seabright looked like he was going to ignore it, but he suddenly turned on him, the movement so fast it was impossible to make out, and shoved.
The man went flying against an outdoor ice cooler.
Seabright went after him. He dragged him to his feet by his collar, but the man raised his palms in surrender.
Seabright didn’t let it go. He looked down at his shirt, or maybe his arm, then got in the man’s face.
“He wasn’t carrying anything, was he?” she asked Zee.
Quincy rolled his chair over to watch. “I’ve studied this tape a dozen times. Neither was carrying anything.”
“I thought maybe the guy had spilled something on him.”
“Exactly,” Zee said. “Why would he get so upset?”
Quincy scooted closer. “From what Mr. Walden said, Seabright was the most easygoing guy he’s ever met. Nothing fazed him.”
“But look,” Zee said, pointing again. “There’s a stain on his shirt.” She turned to Sun. “This may be crazy, boss, but I think he tried to stab Seabright and failed.”
“Could be, sis,” Quincy said. “Seabright is former Special Forces. He could’ve seen the knife from the corner of his eye and thwarted the attempt.”
“And he clearly has lightning-quick reflexes,” Sun said.
“Maybe the guy didn’t know what he was getting himself into,” Zee added. “Which was why, for their second attempt, they drugged him.”
“Makes sense.” Sun leaned closer. “Damn, I wish we had a better angle.”
There were a few people in the store, and every one of them turned to see what was going on. When Seabright shoved the man one last time and headed for his truck, a dark-colored Dodge, several people went to the window to investigate.
The assailant went the opposite direction.
“There,” Zee said, pointing to the taillight of a light-colored, late-model pickup. “He’s getting into a Toyota Tundra.”
Quincy looked at Sun. “Just like the one used to run your boyfriend down.”
“No plates?” she asked.
“They stayed far enough out of camera range, like they’d cased the store beforehand.”
“Maybe we need to check the footage over a few days.”