Page 4 of Taken from Her
But Lavender seemed determined to bridge that gap, creating space for connection despite the uniform and badge that marked her as an outsider.
"Complex it is," Lavender said, adding something that made the coffee smell like morning fog and distant spices. "Take your time deciding if you want to talk here or somewhere more private."
The offer hung between them: they could have a conversation that would remain a surface-level transaction or become something deeper. Diana found herself studying Lavender's face, observing the intelligence behind her kind eyes, the curve of her cheek, and the way Lavender held her gaze without being overbearing.
Lavender extended the mug, steam rising between them.
Diana glanced around the café, noting the faces turned their way with polite curiosity. Her fingers found her badge, worrying the edges—a nervous habit she'd thought she'd conquered years ago. The weight of her duty belt seemed more pronounced here, radio crackling softly with routine dispatch chatter that felt intrusive against the café's warm atmosphere.
"Somewhere more private," Diana said, the words coming out more stiffly than she intended.
Lavender nodded, setting down the mug she'd been drying. "Follow me."
She moved around the counter gracefully, leading Diana toward a door marked 'Private' that Diana had noticed during previous visits but never entered. Diana followed, hyperaware of how her boots sounded against the hardwood and how conversations resumed behind them in careful, lowered voices.
The back room stopped Diana mid-step.
She'd expected a storage space, maybe a small office with typical business equipment. Instead, she found herself in what could only be described as a command center. Professional-grade computer equipment lined one wall, monitors dark but clearly sophisticated. Security cameras fed to a discrete panel, and encrypted communication devices were nested among crystals and sage bundles.
"Surprised?" Lavender asked, following Diana's gaze to where high-tech surveillance equipment sat beside a small altar decorated with photos of community members.
Diana's hand stilled on her badge. "Yes, but I shouldn't be."
The room felt like Lavender herself, complex layers that revealed themselves slowly. Comfortable seating areas with soft throws and cushions, but positioned with clear sightlines to all entrances and exits. Windows facing the coast offered calming ocean views while offering tactical advantage for observation. The scent of sage mixed with the ozone of electronic equipment, creating an atmosphere both spiritual and professional.
Lavender gestured toward a cushioned chair that looked more comfortable than anything in Diana's apartment. "Coffee's getting cold."
Diana sat carefully, noting how the chair's position allowed her to see both the door and the windows, a courtesy she appreciated. Lavender settled across from her, movements easy despite the weight of the conversation ahead.
"Joanna's classes this week," Diana said, referencing the conversation fragment she'd overheard. "The community's trying to figure out how to cover them."
"Parents are scared to bring their kids anywhere alone now," Lavender confirmed. "But they also don't want to stop living. It's..." She paused, choosing words carefully. "It's like watching people hold their breath."
Diana's fingers drummed against her coffee mug—another nervous habit. "What aren't we seeing? Three weeks, and my team's hitting walls."
Lavender studied her for a moment, and Diana felt that appraising gaze again, as if Lavender could see past professional frustration to something deeper.
"Your people are good at asking the right questions," Lavender said. "But they're asking them in police stations and formal interviews. That's not how this community shares information."
"What do you mean?" Diana paused for a beat. “Please.”
"Tara didn't just teach environmental science. She organized beach cleanups where teenagers talked about things they couldn't tell their parents. Isabel didn't just run a startup; she mentored women leaving corporate careers and helped them find their voices. Joanna's swimming lessons were therapy sessions for kids who'd never felt safe in their own bodies."
Diana absorbed this, understanding how case files had reduced these complex women to bullet points and timelines. "So someone studying them wouldn't just know their schedules…"
"They'd know their hearts," Lavender finished. "Know what mattered most to them, who depended on them, and how their absence would create the biggest impact."
The observation twisted in Diana’s stomach. Predators who understood their victims' emotional lives were exponentially more dangerous.
"Community members might have noticed things," Lavender continued, "but they shared those observations over coffee conversations, late-night phone calls, and text messages in private groups. The kind of intelligence that doesn't make it into official statements."
Diana set down her mug, realizing how her hands weren't quite steady. "You're saying I need access to your informal networks."
"I'm saying you need trust. And trust takes time to build."
The words hung between them, loaded with challenge and possibility. Diana found herself fidgeting with her radio, checking connections that didn't need checking.
"What would that look like?" Diana asked.
