“John.” Richie’s sharp, rarely used tone had John startling. “Beth didn’t come down here to tell you to call your mother. You need to go.”

Beth nodded.

John didn’t think this was the best time to point out that he and Mary were just friends. Her shop had been broken into badly enough that Beth was here, in his office, and Mary was there, alone.

“Yeah. Yeah, all right.” He turned a circle and grabbed his bag.

“Do you have appointments this afternoon?” Richie asked. “Court?”

John pressed heavy fingers to his forehead. “No court. But I’m supposed to meet with Sarah about that sex trafficking case and then Weathers asked me to consult with him on a B and E. And the rest of the day was going to be prep for court next week.”

“I’ll let Sarah know you had a family emergency, and I’ll take over the B and E consult. The rest you’re just going to have to catch up on this weekend.”

One of the main differences between being a public defender and working for a private defense firm was the hours. John and Richie generally worked a tight eight to four schedule, occasionally coming in early or leaving a bit late. But for the most part, they had their weekends. John would gladly give up his weekend to cut out early and make it to Mary.

“All right.” John nodded dimly at Richie, grateful for the clear instructions, and followed Beth out of the office. She gave him a ride in the squad car down Court Street. John and Mary’s places of work were only a five-minute drive away from one another. A fifteen-minute brisk walk. So close and yet so far.

He jumped out of the squad car and just stared at the outside of Mary’s shop. The security gate was still pulled down, but her large front window was a spiderweb of white cracks. He could see from the scattered glass on the ground that the impact had come from the inside of the shop.

Though it usually glowed, today the lights seemed to be mostly off inside. The shop looked dull and listless, a normally vibrant soul asleep in a sickbed.

“They came in through the back,” Beth told him. “We can access it through this alley.”

She led him through to where the back entrance of Mary’s shop was propped open. There were two cops smoking back there and yellow crime scene tape that Beth pulled up to let John duck under.

He stepped into Mary’s storeroom and groaned. Boxes and boxes of goods were toppled and torn. There was a thin covering of down feathers over almost everything. Glass crunched under his feet. Not a thing had gone untouched. He couldn’t even begin to estimate the cost of these kinds of damages. He hoped to God she had insurance.