Page 30 of Crossing Lines

Inside, the pastry cases gleamed, the aroma of baking spiced the air, and customers sat at trendy tables on purple and blue microsuede chairs, drinking steaming espressos and cappuccinos, no doubt with cat-shaped foam.

The bakery smells made Jo’s stomach grumble, and the pastries in the case pulled at her attention as Sam stepped up to the counter.

A girl with a long blond braid was behind the counter. They’d talked to her before. A flicker of recognition crossed her face as Sam approached.

“Is Gary in?” Gary was the owner, who they’d also spoken to before. Sam showed his badge just in case the girl had forgotten who they were.

“He’s in the back.” She went back to get him, apparently not eager to answer cop questions herself. Jo fought the urge to warn her about the killer. She’d be about the right age, but the bakery was ten minutes from White Rock, and Jo didn’t want to send an alarm through the whole county. Besides, the girl was a blonde.

Gary came out wiping his flour-dusted hands on a rag. “Chief Mason. What can I help you with?”

Sam glanced over at the computers lined up on a long counter along the window. “We have an interest in finding out who sent an email from these premises.”

“Again?” Gary looked a little put out.

“Yeah, sorry. Has anyone been using the computers recently?”

Gary shrugged. “From time to time. Not too often. Most people have their own these days or use smartphones.”

Sam nodded. They knew from before there was no surveillance in the shop, so it wouldn’t be as easy as looking at video. “Can they use the computers without ordering?”

“No. It’s for customers only.” Gary threw the towel over his shoulder, and tiny particles of flour wafted out. “If you have a picture like before, I could show it around.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have one this time, so I need to take another approach.”

Gary raised a brow.

Jo’s attention drifted from the conversation, and she glanced into the case. She already knew what Sam was going to say. The lemon squares looked good, or maybe a chocolate muffin.

Sam explained, “We know the email was sent yesterday and what time it was sent. I’m going to need the record of all your credit card transactions for yesterday afternoon.”

“Don’t you need a warrant for that? I mean, maybe my customers might not like me handing their financial information to the police.” Gary glanced out at the customers nervously.

“Technically, I do. I can get one, but you don’t want that.”

“Why not?”

“It would create all kinds of scrutiny on your business. Health inspector visits, all kinds of red tape…” Sam let his voice trail off. He and Jo weren’t really one to threaten businesses, but sometimes you had to cut some corners in the interest of expediting things. And they definitely needed to expedite this. The killer could be choosing his next victim right now.

“Okay. I can dig them up, but it might take a day.”

Sam smiled. “Make it a few hours.”

Jo was still looking at the pastry case. Her eyes fell on a pile of bone-shaped cookies that claimed to be healthy dog treats. Right next to them was a giant gooey cinnamon bun. Yep, that would do the trick. She stepped up to the counter and ordered. “I’ll have six of those dog cookies and a cinnamon bun.”

Sam gave her a look.

“You want something?” Jo gestured toward the pastries.

“Nah. Gotta watch what I eat.” Sam patted his stomach. It looked pretty flat to Jo. It was hard to tell under his uniform, but the night before when he was wearing a T-shirt, she’d noticed. Not that she was looking.

As they left the shop, Jo peeked into the bag, inhaling the sweet smell of the cinnamon bun. She practically ran into Sam, who had stopped to hold open the door for someone who was entering. She looked up, suspicion blooming when she saw who he was holding it for. Beryl Thorne.

“Morning, Beryl,” Sam said. Beryl looked surprised and maybe not happily.

“Sam! Jo. I wasn’t expecting to see you two here.” She stepped back, and they all stood outside on the sidewalk. Her gaze flicked to the bag in Jo’s hand. “Kind of far to come for pastries. Though they do have the best.”

Now Jo remembered. They’d run into Beryl here before. Her family home was near here, and she frequented the shop.

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