Avery’s head felt sluggish. “Uh . . . yesterday.” She tightened the cross of her arms, unable to get warm. “Before he and Trace went into Santa Rosa to pick up supplies.”
Tom pulled a photo from his pocket and showed it to Avery. JT stared back at her, with a split lip and a bruise beneath one eye. “Did he look like this then?”
Her brow tightened. “No. So what?”
Tom tucked the picture away. “So he’s saying that he and Mr. Hutton got in a fight over drug proceeds, and that’s why Trace fired him.”
Avery huffed a disgusted breath and rolled her eyes. “For God’s sake, Tom, JT just got out of prison. Trace has been a model citizen for half a dozen years. Who are you going to believe?”
“Mr. Hutton,” Tom said, “lift up your shirt.”
Avery gave Tom a where-the-hell-did-that-come-from? look, then glanced at Trace, who pulled his shirt up, exposing bruises across his abdomen.
“How’d you get those bruises, Mr. Hutton?” Tom asked.
“Jesus Christ,” Avery said, her anger bursting into the growing tension in the room. “He got those on the roof.”
Tom’s gaze cut to Avery. “Did you see him incur the injury, Avery?”
“No, but—”
“Let’s go talk outside.” Zane cut her off and steered Avery toward the front door.
Avery resisted. “I don’t want to leave Trace—”
“He’s a big boy,” Zane said, pushing her out the door and onto the porch. “I promise he can take care of himself.”
Outside, stan
ding among all the police units, Avery’s mind started to fragment. News of this stupid raid or search or whatever it was would be all over town by noon. Her mind whirled around the rumors it would stir and the problems it could cause. She worried over the implications it would carry and the impact it would have on business.
Avery reached in her back pocket for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She stopped and turned toward the building again. “My phone . . .”
“You can’t go back in right now.”
“I just want my phone.” Her voice broke, and she pressed her fist to her forehead to keep herself together. “I want to call Delaney and Phoebe. Shit.” She dropped her hand and looked up at Zane. With a lowered voice she asked, “Does Trace need a lawyer? Should I call someone for him?”
“If they don’t find any drugs in your building, Trace won’t need a lawyer.”
“They aren’t going to find—” The ice re-formed in her gut. “Oh, shit. What if . . . what if JT left some there?”
“Why would he do that?”
Avery threw her arms in the air. “Shit, I don’t know.” She paced in a circle, then returned her gaze to Zane but pointed to the café, livid. “Is this JT or is this Austin? ’Cause I’ve got shit on Aus—” She sucked a breath and swiveled toward the building. “My phone.” She spun back toward Zane. “You need to get my phone. I have a picture on there that Austin doesn’t want anyone to see.”
Zane squinted toward the building, his expression stern. His phone rang, and, without taking his gaze off the café, he answered, “Yeah.”
A high-pitched, quick-speaking female sputtered on the other end of the line. Zane lowered his gaze to the ground. “Slow down, Gram, I can’t . . . No, he was fine when Harlan dropped him off . . . Well, how in the hell did he . . . No, I have no idea.” Zane put his free hand on his head and turned away, pacing a few steps before he stopped and heaved a sigh. “Christ, we can’t afford an emergency-room visit.”
Now Avery was caught between Zane’s drama and her own. But she could handle only one at a time, which meant she had to solve this mini-crisis within the major crisis before she’d be able to think straight.
She started back toward the café, climbed the stairs, and stepped inside. Her gaze fell on Trace where he sat in one of the dining chairs, leaning forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped, gaze on the floor. His shoulders were hunched. His jaw ticked. And Avery’s heart twisted.
“Avery,” Tom said, interrupting his conversation with another deputy, “you need to stay outside.”
Trace’s head came up, and his eyes met hers, but the man she knew didn’t live there. The man in those eyes was broken and dark. And it absolutely killed her to see such a good man unjustly dragged so far down.
She turned her gaze on Tom. “No, I don’t. Show me in the warrant where it says I have to stay outside.”