Page 15 of Bear In A Bookstore
Desi resisted the urge to punch the steering well. “What about Fox, or Riker? My morning is full. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to help you.”
“Your cousins are on a training session for the search and rescue squad. Like I said, everybody has a valid excuse for not working tomorrow but you.”
Desi growled. “Dad—” the line went dead.
He tossed the phone into the passenger seat and gripped the steering wheel hard. Since returning from the military, his dad had been aggressively pushing him into joining the family business. Despite Desi laying out his post-military plans for his entire family—plans that included opening Mitchell Security, his father was hell-bent that his youngest son was going to be a full-time partner. But he already had former military contacts that were interested in discussing security services with him. He didn’t have time, or interest, in overseeing construction projects right now. That was Dax’s job, but his newborn twins were taking up his time. Understandable, but Desi had his own things going on.
His phone pinged with an incoming text message. Knowing it was his dad sending instructions for tomorrow, Desi ignored it. He planned on making a walk-through of Kora’s properties tomorrow. Something didn’t sit right in the pit of his stomach. He felt a sense of urgency about getting her squared away. Maybe he was just drawing from her nervous energy, but he just wanted to get it done.
Damn it. Now he had his father wedging into his plans.
The wail of a siren caught his attention. Flashing red lights flooded his car as a police squad pulled to the curb down the street. Desi watched in his rearview mirror as two officers got out and approached the doors of his sister-in-law’s business, Sticky Sweet Bakery. The back of his neck tingled as he got out of his truck and cautiously made his way toward the squad. One officer went around back while the other tried the handle on the front door.
The screech of the internal alarm sounded muffled from inside.
Had someone broken in?
Desi put his hands up in a show of submission and called out to the officer. “I know the code for the door. My brother’s wife Allie owns the bakery.”
“Stay back where I can see you.”
“Yes, sir.”
The officer made a quick inspection, then turned to Desi.
“What’s your name?”
“Desi Mitchell, sir.”
“Go ahead with the code.”
Desi approached and punched in the code. A familiar scent tickled his nose. Squinting, he drew the scent over his palate and let his bear assess the notes. There was a sharp tang to it, like decaying foliage or wet earth mixed with a note he felt he should know. The ripe taste of bleach wafted over his palate.
The officer waved Desi back and entered the bakery. Moments later, the alarm stopped, lights came on and both officers met inside by the front door. Desi’s phone vibrated. He knew it was Dax before he answered.
“I’m here at the bakery. Two officers are checking it out.”
“The security company just called. Allie’s worried sick.”
“I’ll put you on speaker. One sec.”
Hitting the speaker button, Desi approached and stepped over the threshold. “Anything, officers?”
The second officer’s face lit up. “Hey, Desi. Welcome home, son.”
He recognized Trevor Millum, the father of a high school buddy. Desi gave a nod of thanks. “Thank you, sir. I’ve got the bakery owners on the line, here. Anything they should know?”
“Seems to be a false alarm.” They spoke to Dax for a few minutes, then ended the call. Desi waited while the officers finished up. Something wasn’t right. The scent was stronger inside and the air felt thick. His bear sensed something . . .
“Mind if I take a look around?”
Officer Millum shook his head. “Go ahead.”
First, he checked Allie’s security system to see if it had been tampered with. Finding nothing, he made sure it was properly reset and then he let his nose take the lead. The faint smell left a rapidly deteriorating trail from the back door to the storage room where it concentrated on the floor. Odd. Bending down, Desi surveyed the tiled floor, finding nothing. He was about to stand when something caught his attention. A small piece of folded paper lay beneath a bottom shelf, discarded beside a recycling bin of plastic bags.
Snagging it, he did a double take, then took one more look and ran a hand over his mouth. It was a magazine clipping, black and white. The image of a woman stared back at him. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line, her eyes sad and anxious.
It was the spitting image of Kora.
