Apparently, Ace had a title, and Troy didn’t. He gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to think more reasonably about all this. Darcy was upset. He should try to take her fears seriously even if he didn’t share them.
Chilly rain dripped from his hair onto his cheek, like tears. He wiped the moisture away irritably. It was more tempting to tell Darcy to chill out, drag her home to a warm, dry bed and quiet her fears with logic and a certain technique as old as mankind.
“Ace.” Darcy spoke sharply—Ace had been standing silent, in apparent weed-induced paralysis. “What happened?”
He came to life with a jerk. “Oh, right. So we’re doing okay, the night is crazy. I’m working the line with Sean and Ben, we’re keeping up, but barely. Raoul comes in again, wants to chat, hey, how are we doing, how’ve we been, catch him up. Like he wouldn’t know it’s a bad time to talk?”
Darcy shook her head, grimacing. “Of course he would.”
“Now, standing here with you, chef, I’m thinking he wanted to come back while we were distracted, but at the time it didn’t register.”
“Of course not. You were all busy.” She spoke to him as if he were a favorite pupil, making Troy mumble words no school kid should hear.
“So he says he has to make a call but his phone is dead. Sean just wants to get rid of the guy, orders are coming in like crazy, the waitresses are pissy that some plates are delayed.” He looked anxiously at Darcy. “Not that it was so bad. No complaints from the customers. In fact, big tips. I think everyone had a really great time. The bride and groom came back after and—”
“Ace, tell the story.”
“Right, sorry.” Ace held up his hands. “Sean gestures Raoul back into your office to use your phone. When he comes out I realize we don’t know how long he was in there. We’re all in the zone.”
The reefer zone?
Darcy gave Ace a don’t-bullshit-me look, arms folded. “Were you smoking?”
“Not while I was on the line,” Ace said proudly.
Darcy nodded approvingly. Apparently, a few hours off was a major accomplishment. “Then what?”
“Then nothing.” Ace scratched the side of his head. “He leaves. We finish the shift. When things calm down and I’m closing up, I remember he was in your office and I go in. Right away I’m getting the vibe that something isn’t right. Something bad is going on.”
Darcy appeared to be holding her breath. Troy wiped another drip off his face. He could not believe Darcy was so enthralled with this stoner kid’s big moment in the sun. Everything they’d heard so far could have waited until morning. Or afternoon. Or next week.
“What do you think happened?” Darcy asked anxiously.
“I don’t know. But I’m telling you, he did something in there.”
Troy wanted to laugh. “Like maybe make his phone call and come back out?”
“No.” Ace shook his shaggy head. “Something else. I didn’t notice anything out of place, but there was bad intent in there.”
“Bad intent? That’s all you’ve got?” Troy wanted to cry this time. “No evidence? Not even a strong suspicion?”
“You don’t know Raoul.” Darcy glared at Troy, who couldn’t believe she was eating this up like a new dessert menu. Bad intent?
“Do you think he got into my computer, Ace? Could he have gotten the password?”
“I don’t know.” Ace’s face was funereal. “I didn’t touch anything. I called you right away.”
Darcy rushed to the door of her office, Ace on her heels. Troy followed and parked himself outside the tiny space, leaning against the metal counter. He had a full view of the interior from here; inside, he’d only be in the way.
A minute or two ticked by while Darcy and Ace left no speck of dust unturned. Troy crossed his arms and legs, feeling more and more annoyed. His mantra was threatening to change, from Darcy wasn’t Debby to Yes, she was. From everything Troy could see, history was repeating itself.
“The place looks fine. The backup flash drive is still where I hid it. Nothing seems disturbed. I can’t tell if he got into the computer, though. I should think it would take time.”