She ignored Tom. While David had become an expert at obeying authority, Avery had discovered in all those years fending for herself, there was a time to obey and there was a time to resist. She’d also discovered that often ignoring, combatting, or avoiding authority got her a lot further than trying to go directly through it. “Trace?”
His eyes moved back to her and he nodded. “Open the door; then step aside. This isn’t about you.”
“How do you know?”
“Avery, honey,” Tom said through the glass. “Don’t make me break this brand-new door. Alice’ll have me in the doghouse for months.”
Tom’s reference to his wife and one of Avery’s best customers via Wildly Artisan melted her anger like a flame to ice. Avery continued to the door, unlocked it, and opened it a foot. “What’s this about, Tom?”
He offered her a folded group of papers. “I’m sorry, Avery. We have a warrant to search the premises.”
“For what?”
One of the other deputies pushed the door open, Tom stepped in and urged Avery aside with a gentle hand on her arm. The other three swept in, and one started calling directions.
“Step aside, sweetheart,” Tom said. ”Let us do our job and we’ll get out of here.”
“Tom—” Her threat was cut short by the sight of more deputies climbing the stairs and flooding into her shop. Deputies that included Austin. Fury exploded, wiping out any ability to think rationally, and she broke out of Tom’s hold, starting for Austin. “You piece of shit—”
She lunged for him but never made contact. Trace caught her around the waist with one arm and pulled her back.
“No, no, no,” Trace crooned in her ear, wrapping her in his arms and holding her tight.
She glared at Austin, who never flinched, never blinked. He didn’t look pleased or annoyed or angry. He looked blank. Like he couldn’t care less about her outburst.
“Just let them look,” Trace said. “They’ll be gone before you know it.”
“Let go.” She elbowed Trace until he released her; then she turned on Tom, just this side of hysterical. “If they break or ruin one thing, Tom, one thing, I swear I will plant my ass on Holland’s desk and handcuff myself there until the city pays for it.”
“Now calm down, Avery. All my deputies have strict instructions not to damage anything and to put everything back the way they found it.”
Two deputies she didn’t recognize approached and addressed Trace. “Mr. Hutton, come over here please.”
“What?” Avery swung that direction. “Why?”
Trace put up a hand to Avery. She didn’t know if it was meant to reassure her or shut her up, but it did neither. And when she turned back to Tom to demand answers, she saw Zane climb out of a patrol car and jog toward the building.
“Thank God.” She pulled out of Tom’s grip and went to the door. “Zane,” she said before he’d even reached the porch. “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and said, “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
When they stepped back into the room, Avery froze at the sight of Trace with his hands pressed to the stainless steel countertop. His feet were spread wide, and one cop patted him down while the other stood watch. Her stomach turned icy, and in that flicker of an instant she saw her whole world shift. She imagined Trace being sent back to prison. Imagined herself as one of those women who spent their weekends in cement visitation rooms, talking to their boyfriend through glass over a phone.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Tom told Zane, drawing Avery back to the present. She turned away from Trace, now standing but still guarded by the two cops. “You’re not even supposed to be on duty for another hour.”
“You should have at least advised me,” Zane said. His blue eyes, lighter and grayer than Trace’s, were dark with anger this morning, but he softened his voice when he asked Avery, “What happened with JT?”
Avery crossed her arms over her middle, suddenly cold, dizzy, and nauseous. She felt like she’d missed a whole chunk of the conversation. “What about him?”
Tom glanced at a small notebook in his hand. “He alleges Trace was selling drugs out of this location.”
“Bullshit,” Avery bit out immediately. “JT’s pissed because he got caught breaking into the café yesterday morning. Trace had the good sense to fire him, and JT’s just trying to get revenge.”
“Did you report that break-in?” Tom asked.
“No,” she said, struggling to justify what probably looked to others like a lapse in judgment. “I came in so early, JT didn’t get a chance to take anything.”
“When’s the last time you saw JT?” Tom asked.