Page 42 of Protecting Chaos

“What are you doing here? I mean…” She visibly swallowed.Crap. Crap. Crap. Act cool, Avery.“Are you here to eat?”

“I’m here to see the owner,” I said.

She chewed her lip between her teeth and gestured to the man behind the counter. “Mr. Bradford is over there.”

“Thanks.” I smiled, sidestepping her, and headed to the counter. I flashed my badge. “I’m FBI Special Agent Ashton Bennett.”

He held out his hand. “George Bradford, what can I do for you?”

We shook hands. “I have a few questions I’d like to ask.”

“Of course, how can I help you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and then dropping them to his side and sliding his hands into his pockets.

Most people got nervous talking to law enforcement. It was a natural reaction, no matter how reassuring we could be that we weren’t there to arrest them, only ask questions. I was privy to those thoughts every time I pulled out my badge. They’d run through their laundry list of dirty secrets before trying to figure out which friend or family member might be in trouble.

I glanced around. “In private might be better.”

“Sure.” George led the way through double doors. Passing a kitchen, break room, and locker area, he turned into an office.

I shut the door behind us.

“What’s all this about?”

“Poisoning a bunch of cops.”

Mr. Bradford’s face turned ashen, and he blinked rapidly. He hadn’t been expecting my accusation.

He crossed and then uncrossed his arms, confusion shadowed in his eyes while he tilted his head as if trying to comprehend what exactly I was accusing him of.

His eyes narrowed. “You must have us confused with another establishment. No way—”

“One of your patrons orders pizza from here for the weekly promotion you run where you give back to students. She had police officers at her house last night, and most of them got sick.”

“You must be confused.” The guy’s brows furrowed. “We don’t have a weekly student promo. Are you sure the patron ordered from my shop?”

“I’m sure. I ate the pizza too.” I slipped my hands into my pockets. “And what do you mean you don’t have a promo? My friend orders from you once a week because the proceeds go to underprivileged local children.”

“I’ve never run a promo like that. Now we have done some for cancer…” The man rose from his seat when I didn’t sit down. “And if you ate the pizza, you look fine. I can assure you that we only use the freshest ingredients. It’s part of our jingle. We make the sauce and the dough fresh every day.”

This wasn’t making any sense. “Who was working last night?”

Mr. Bradford grabbed a clipboard from his desk and flipped the page. “Conrad, Greg, Avery, and Prue.”

“Have you got security cameras?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, returning to his seat. He spun around to face his computer and pulled up the security feed he had going to an online storage account. “We were robbed once, so I installed it after that.”

“The police will need access if they determine that the ingredients were tampered with.”

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. If one of my employees screwed something up, I’ll fire them.”

That probably wouldn’t solve the shit storm that was coming down the pipes, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. I needed George’s help and the last thing I needed was to give him a reason not to cooperate.

George pulled up the feed and moved out of his seat, gesturing for me to take his place.

There were four areas in the building covered by security cameras.

I pulled up the one in the kitchen to about the time that Stella had placed her order last night.

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