Page 50 of Smoldering Nights
Still, for the first time in days, it didn’t feel like she was facing the storm alone.
Chapter25
Mitch stood in the alley behind Petal Pushers, the hotel, the gas station, Miracle Garage, and Delilah Parker’s nail salon.He was near the hotel, where he could hide himself near shrubs and foliage if need be, his arms crossed as he watched the back of Delilah's.The “Closed” sign hung in the front window despite it being mid-morning when he'd driven by earlier.He’d been standing in the alley for twenty minutes now, leaning against a lamppost with a paper coffee cup in hand, playing the part of an average hotel guest enjoying the morning sun.
Except he wasn’t.He was hunting.
Jayson’s voice buzzed in his ear through the wireless comm link.“Confirmed.Travis was seen on the alley cam again.Last Thursday, midnight.Entering through the back of Delilah’s.No delivery bag.No toolbox.Just him, slipping inside like he owned the place.”
Mitch ground his jaw.“That’s the third time we’ve caught that.”
“Fourth,” Jayson corrected.“He was also seen Monday night.Same deal.”
“Hmm,” Mitch muttered.He took a sip of the now-cold coffee, more out of habit than need.“She doesn’t have appointments that late.So what’s worth sneaking in for?”
“Cash?”Jayson offered.“Or drugs.We’ve got a solid lead suggesting Travis is dealing.Maybe she’s letting him use the salon to stash or move product.”
“Or she’s in on it,” Mitch said darkly.
“She’s certainly not discouraging him.”
Mitch’s mind turned over the implications.Delilah had debts, two delinquent loans that should’ve disqualified her from any business expansion.Yet somehow, this morning, lumber had been delivered, and rumor had it, her salon was being remodeled, her supply orders had doubled, and her Instagram account was full of flashy “Coming Soon” posts.
"Travis might be funding her with the drug money," Mitch said aloud.“But that doesn’t explain the sabotage at Petal Pushers.Unless Delilah wants Izzy gone so her salon can expand into the flower shop’s space.”
“Or she’s just vindictive,” Jayson added.“We’ve both seen smaller motives spark bigger crimes.”
Before Mitch could reply, the salon’s back door creaked open.He stepped behind the post and angled himself just enough to watch.Delilah emerged in platform heels and a sleek, gold-trimmed dress that didn’t say “business owner” so much as “late-night lounge host.”She scanned the alley, then pulled the door closed and locked it with a short, efficient twist of her wrist.
Travis wasn’t with her, but her appearance alone said enough; she wasn’t unaware of what was happening behind her own walls.
“Delilah’s out,” Mitch said.“I’m going in.”
“Wait...what?”Jayson’s voice sharpened.“You don’t have a warrant.”
“I’m not touching anything.Just looking.I’ll be fast.”
He waited until she turned the corner at the far end of the street, then he crossed the alley quickly to the back entrance.With practiced efficiency, Mitch tested the lock.A small, recessed pin.Child’s play.
Two clicks, and the door eased open.
The salon smelled like polish remover, lavender oil, and something else.Chemical.Acrid.Not nail supplies.
He moved inside quietly, through a small break room.Inside the salon, he stepped past manicure stations and pedicure chairs until he reached the front.Shelves lined the walls, packed with bottles, boxes, and bags.A wall to a smaller room had been removed, the bare studs and wires hanging loose, and the room itself stripped of anything except a stack of 2X4s and a box of screws.
He turned and scanned the rest of the salon until his gaze landed on a cardboard box marked with shipping codes.Easing the top back, he peered inside, and tucked beneath cotton balls and packets of gloves, were clear plastic bags filled with white powder.No branding.No paperwork.Just bricks of trouble.
“Bingo,” Mitch whispered.“Get me a local badge.We’ve got product.”
“Copy that.Sending word to Chief Fielding now,” Jayson replied.“But you need to get out of there.I'll phone this in as a concerned citizen.”
Mitch took a few discreet photos, then eased back out the rear door and locked it behind him.
He’d barely rounded the corner when a familiar beat-up sedan turned down the block.Noah’s car.The same one from the courthouse camera.Mitch ducked behind a parked SUV as Noah pulled to a stop across the street, right outside Petal Pushers.
Noah didn’t get out.He just sat there.Watching.
Mitch’s pulse ticked up.The pieces were aligning fast.
