Page 23 of Deep Tide

“I don’t need you to rush. Do whatever you have to do. I just—I wish someone had let me know you were coming back again. I told my staffers we’d be ready to open tomorrow.”

Emmet cast a look over his shoulder toward the back of the shop. No fewer than four people were back there now—two CSIs and a forensic photographer, plus Nicole, who seemed to be running things.

Leyla peered through the kitchen to the hallway beyond. She couldn’t see what they were up to, but they were talking in hushed, tense voices. The sound of a camera clicking away put a ball of dread in Leyla’s stomach.

She looked at her brother’s friend. She’d known him for years. “Emmet, what is going on?”

“Let me go see.”

He headed back there, and she could tell from the guilty look on his face that he knew exactly what was going on, but he didn’t want to tell her.

“Leyla.”

She turned to Siena, who stood beside the condiment bar, spray bottle in hand. She had spent the past hour cleaning fingerprint powder off doorframes throughout the shop. The stuff seemed to be everywhere, and it was difficult to get rid of.

“What do you want me to do?” Siena asked.

“I guess... nothing.” Leyla checked her watch. It was almost noon. They still had the afternoon to work but given that the CSIs were just getting started again, Leyla had no idea when they would finish.

“Let’s call it a day,” she said, making a snap decision. Siena’s eyes looked puffy and tired, and being here at all today was obviously a struggle. Leyla didn’t want to make her wait around. Who knew how long the investigators would be busy back there? She didn’t even know what the hell they were doing.

“So... do you think we’ll be reopening tomorrow?” Siena asked. “Or is that off now?”

“I’ll let you know.” She checked her watch again. “I’ll make a call by three o’clock. In the meantime go home and get some rest.”

“I can wait with you.”

“No need. I’ll handle it.”

A rapid click-click-click in back made Leyla’s stomach turn. The photographer was snapping pictures of something. Siena cast a worried look toward the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” Siena asked.

“Absolutely. Here, I’ll put all this away.” Leyla stepped forward to take the spray bottle and rag from her hands. “You go on.”

“Let me know what happens.”

“I will.”

Siena darted one last glance at the kitchen and dug a set of keys from the pocket of her black apron. “All right. Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

Leyla watched out the window as Siena walked to her car, taking her cell phone out as she went. Leyla hoped she was calling her boyfriend. She needed emotional support right now.

The typically crowded parking lot was nearly empty today, and a pair of orange traffic cones blocked the entrance. Siena maneuvered around them, bumping over the curb as she drove out of the lot.

Leyla turned back to survey the shop. She set the cleaning supplies on the nearest table and strained to listen. The voices were hushed again, and she got a sick, slimy feeling in her stomach. Something was very wrong.

Of course it was—everything was wrong about this situation—but even more wrong than yesterday.

Nicole emerged from the kitchen. “Leyla, could you come back here a sec? The CSI has a question.”

“Sure.”

“You’ll need to put on some shoe covers.”

Leyla was already slipping the paper booties over her Converse sneakers.

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