Page 40 of Target Acquired

When the doorbell rang, Kenzie turned from the photo and pasted a smile on her lips.

COLE DIDN’T KNOW WHY he had a hard time pulling in a breath when Kenzie opened the door, but this reaction when he was around her was getting ridiculous. She wore a light blue oversize sweatshirt and faded jeans with fashionable holes in the knees. He could tell she had her vest on under the sweatshirt. With her dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a few wispy bangs playing tag with her eyebrows, she looked about eighteen. Her eyes were decades older, though.

“Hey,” she said, “come on in for a sec. I just need to grab my piece.”

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. A hint of lemon and pine tickled his nose. She’d been cleaning.

When she returned from the kitchen, her eyes met his. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

It didn’t take long to get to the farmers’ market. Kenzie lived about three miles from the place, and he knew she was a frequent visitor, thanks to the baked goodies she often brought to headquarters.

“What good do you think this is going to do? I mean, anyone could have bought that. It could have been in a gift basket. It could have been—”

“I know, Kenzie. I honestly don’t expect to figure out who bought it, but if he’s been here once, maybe he’s a regular.”

“True. And if we know the booth he bought from, we can watch it.”

“Exactly.”

He backed into a spot near the entrance and displayed his law enforcement status on the dash. The open-air market was already bustling with visitors, and the breeze carried the stomach-rumbling scent of croissants and cinnamon rolls. He was going to have a cinnamon roll before they left.

But first, business. He examined the setup of the place. At the entrance, there were stalls, one after the other, with everything from children’s toys to clothing for sale. This part of the market opened to the parking lot. From a previous visit, Cole could envision the rest of the layout. Long rows of indoor vendors with an exit on the far end and multiple exits along the walking paths.

“Produce is all the way to the back and to the left,” Kenzie said, pointing down the main aisle. “In front of that temperature-controlled building.”

“It’s like a grocery store, right?” He’d been in it once? Maybe?

“Yeah, but with vendor booths inside, so you pay at each booth, just like out here.”

“Right.”

They found the produce aisle easily. The place had been built back at the start of the city’s founding and had been the place to trade and sell goods since day one, according to history. Improvements had kept the market up to code, and business still boomed.

With a picture of the label on his phone, he walked to the first interior booth and showed the teen worker the screen. “Hi, could you tell me what fruit this was on?”

She frowned. “Dunno. Lemme ask my mom. Mom!”

Cole smothered a laugh under the guise of a cough while Kenzie pressed her fingers to her lips to cover her smile.

A woman at the back of the booth spun and shot a ferocious frown at her offspring, then hurried to stand in front of them. “Yes?”

“These people want to know what fruit a label came off of.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I can tell them that.”

“Go see if Mr. Boyle has anything you can help him with. Something that doesn’t involve customer interaction.” With another exaggerated roll of her eyes, the girl stomped off, and her mother turned a weary smile on them. “She’s such a delight these days, as you can see. She doesn’t want to be here, but she’s grounded, so . . . I apologize. Now, what label do you have?”

Cole showed her.

“I don’t recognize that one. Miranda Tollison might know. She’s been here longer than some of us.”

“I know Miranda,” Kenzie said. “Thank you.”

Cole followed Kenzie to the booth at the end of the row, and Kenzie introduced them. Miranda looked at the picture. “I’ve seen it, but it’s not one of mine. Why don’t you try Jonathan?”

They said their goodbyes and found Jonathan. The redheaded man with a sunburned nose nodded. “Yeah, that’s my label. According to the number, that’s for the pears.” Jonathan reached over and held one up with a matching label. Finally.

“Well, that explains why I didn’t recognize it,” Kenzie said. “I hate pears.” Cole shot her a look of amusement, and she shrugged, then turned back to Jonathan. “Do you have a lot of law enforcement customers?” Kenzie asked.