She stepped up to the counter. “I’m looking for Tommy.”

Davie shrugged. “You’re looking in the wrong place. Sorry.” He took another bite of the donut.

Laurel tilted her head. “He wasn’t in school today. Were you?”

Davie stared at her and kept chewing. Finally, he shrugged.

She looked him over, and the seventeen-year-old was a couple of inches over six feet with some pudge still around his face and middle, but his arms showed muscle. “Where is Tommy?”

“He’s at home, and I think he was at school today,” Davie said, his mouth full of donut. He met her gaze evenly and didn’t look away. She’d clocked him as being shy the other day at the mayor’s house but maybe she’d been wrong. So she removed her badge from her back pocket, opened the leather case, and set it on the counter next to flyers for the business. “Do you know what this is?”

He scoffed. “Looks like a badge.”

“Good job. It is a badge. Not only that, but it’s an FBI badge, which is a federal agency. Did you know that it’s actually against the law to lie to a federal agent? Famous people have been sentenced to prison for it.” She needed a background check on Davie Tate. “Now how about you tell me where Tommy has been all day and whether or not you were with him.”

Davie squinted and his eyes gleamed. “I won’t lie to you, lady. But you know what? I don’t have to say a fucking thing.”

Surprise filtered through her but she kept her face expressionless. “That could be called hindering an investigation. If you just want to live somewhere other than home, say so, Davie. I can make it happen with a criminal charge or two.” She zeroed in on his enlarged pupils. “Are you on something?”

“Just life.” He laughed at his own joke. Then he sobered. “Speaking of laws, I think you’re trespassing. Get the hell out of here.” His voice rose several decibels on the last.

She lowered her chin.

“What the heck is going on?” Jason Abbott hustled out of an office with Haylee Johnson on his heels. “Who is yelling?” The architect wore a blue flannel shirt with jeans, and he had a set of plans in his hands. He took in the scene and then put the plans on a table behind the counter, his gaze wary. “What is going on?”

Davie snorted. “Bitch wants to know where Tommy is.” Haylee gasped.

Jason jerked and then moved toward Davie. “What is wrong with you?” He grasped the young man’s arm and turned to Laurel. “Sorry about that.” Then he focused on Davie again, ducking his head to see the kid’s eyes. “Are you on something?” He glanced at Haylee, who lifted her shoulders, her eyes wide.

Davie chuckled. “It’s not illegal in Washington State, man.”