Their server stopped by their table, giving them a harried smile before she nudged Jackson.
“Hey, can you help us out? Whatever Easton’s doing in the kitchen is taking a while, and we could really use Sandy back on the floor waiting tables instead of taking drink orders at the bar.”
Jackson twisted against the booth to peer over his shoulder then nodded. “Sure. Let me relieve Easton in the kitchen and get him back to his post.”
Relief flooded the young woman’s expression. “Thanks, boss. We appreciate it.”
Jackson kissed Reagan and rose to head toward the kitchen, but Bailee saw the expression that crossed his face before he could mask it. Concern. Something had nagged at her when she noticed Easton stayed gone longer than she expected, but now, seeing his brother bothered as well, her gut churned.
“Do you mind if I come too? Maybe I can help with whatever has Easton tied up.” She attempted to cover her worry behind her good-natured tone, but she wasn’t sure anyone at her table bought it.
Jackson studied her a moment before he nodded. “Sure. Come on.”
She tried to keep calm as she followed behind him. Smiling at the waitress tending bar, she kept Jackson’s back in her sight as they stepped through the door leading from the main area to the kitchen.
“Hey, Marty.”
Bailee stepped from behind Jackson to see whom he greeted. The man stood a couple of inches shorter than her and carried a good fifty pounds of extra weight on his frame. His head was clean shaven, making his deep-set blue eyes pop. He lifted his chin in acknowledgment as he pulled on an oven mitt.
Steam billowed from the oven when he opened it, and he pulled out a pan loaded with potato skins. The thick slices were covered with bubbly cheese, and he started sprinkling bacon pieces and diced green onions over the top.
Jackson scanned the kitchen before turning his attention back to Marty. “Hey, where’s Easton?”
Marty slipped off the oven mitt and wiped his palms down the front of his apron. “Haven’t seen him since he took the trash out. I was cooking up orders so I could have missed him. Did you check in the office?”
Bailee did her own visual scan of the kitchen. “Which way to the dumpster?”
Jackson nodded toward a heavy gray door at the back. “Through there.”
She turned to face him. “I’ll check out there. You check the office?”
He hesitated a moment, as if sizing her up, and then nodded. “Okay. He’s probably on the phone or something and lost track of time.”
She pursed her lips. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
Jackson’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t jump to conclusions. I follow the facts.”
“Fair enough. I’ll look around and come find you if he’s not outside.”
She didn’t wait for his reply before she hurried toward the door. Stepping out, she jumped when the door slammed behind her, echoing in the alley — the same alley Clive Melvin dragged her to when he tried to abduct her.
As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she knelt and pulled her weapon from its ankle holster. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to have it in her hand, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of foreboding that something bad was happening.
She studied her surroundings and only moved when she noticed nothing was amiss. Walking stealthily, she looked for signs that Easton had been there. She didn’t hear any noisesoutside of the usual nighttime sounds. Circling the dumpster, she felt her unease heighten though she found no evidence to justify her anxiety.
She made her way down the alley toward the parking lot. There was nothing. No footprints. No drag marks. No signs of a struggle. If the cook hadn’t told her Easton had gone outside, she would have assumed he hadn’t left the bar at all.
Mentally chastising herself for overreacting, she started to head back inside when she spotted something in the gravel. Using her cell’s flashlight, she investigated. The piece of black plastic was fractured as if someone dropped it to the ground and broke it. Or stepped on it. She couldn’t be sure which.
Using the hem of her shirt to cover her hand, she moved the plastic until it flipped over, confirming it was a crushed cell phone. The screen lit up, and she saw a text notification on the lock screen. A message from Jackson. She found Easton’s cell, but no Easton.
Using her shirt to carry it without smudging any fingerprints that could be on it, she scooped up the phone. Flipping the safety on her gun and tucking it out of sight in the ankle holster, she headed back inside.
Ben met her at the door, and she didn’t like the thunderous expression on his face.
“I found his phone. Someone crushed it and left it in the parking lot,” she said before he could tell her what had him upset.
Ben motioned for her to follow him. “We checked the security footage. You need to see this.”
