We got out of the car. Underneath my boots, the parking lot gravel vibrated with the sounds of traffic and tires continually rolling across it. A low growl that told me the stones had seen a lot of people and cars go by in their time. Nothing sinister, just the everyday facts of life.

A smile brightened Violet Fox’s face and softened her eyes, chasing away some of the lingering shadows from last night.

“You really love this place, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded. “My parents died when I was ten. My grandfather took me in and raised me. I’ve been helping him with the store ever since. It’s like my second home, you know?”

Violet Fox and I were more alike than she realized, because I did know. Because I felt the same way about the Pork Pit. That’s why I’d reacted so badly, so defensively, when Jonah McAllister had come calling today—because he wasn’t just threatening my business, my livelihood, he was threatening my home as well. A piece of my heart. The last piece of Fletcher Lane that I had, since the old man was dead and gone and had left me nothing else but riddles to solve.

Violet started to walk ahead to the store, but I grabbed her arm.

“Stay behind me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Just do it, all right?”

Finn stared at me over the hood of the SUV. “You think there’s going to be trouble inside, Gin?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. But if this is such a popular place, why aren’t there more cars here? It’s lunchtime. Folks should be packed in here, getting a sandwich or a cold drink.”

Finn’s green eyes flicked over the gravel lot. Only one other car was parked in it, an anonymous navy sedan. His eyes drifted out to the road. A steady stream of traffic came and went at the crossroads, but none of the drivers looked at the store, much less pulled into the lot. Finn’s face tightened.

“It’s been quiet since Dawson started sending his men over to harass us,” Violet explained. “People don’t like to stop somewhere there might be trouble. Sometimes, we’re lucky if we get five customers in eight hours. It’s probably just a slow day.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go find out.”

I led the way, with Finn behind me and Violet bringing up the rear. As we crossed the parking lot, I palmed one of my silverstone knives. If there was trouble inside, I’d be the first one to see it—and I wanted to be ready to deal with it.

The porch stairs didn’t creak under my weight. They were too smooth and well-worn to do that. I walked up them, opened the front door, and stepped inside.

Country Daze was exactly what I’d expected. Scarred, ancient wooden floors. Displays of tourist T-shirts, key chains, and other doodads. An odd assortment of tools and outdoor equipment. Barrels full of rock candy, saltwater taffy, and cellophane-wrapped sugary pralines. A couple of coolers filled with old-fashioned glass soda bottles.