The room changed instantly.
The man he had been dragging toward the door was no longer anonymous.
No longer powerless.
I wish I could say I enjoyed that moment.
I didn’t.
Because the fear on Kyle’s face told me my suspicion was right.
Something criminal was happening at Rosie’s.
And my manager knew about it.
I looked at Amber.
“Lock the front door.”
Kyle snapped, “Don’t do that.”
Amber looked at me.
“Lock it.”
She did.
I called the police.
Mason bolted.
He made it three steps before a dishwasher named Luis blocked the kitchen exit with a rolling rack.
“Move,” Mason shouted.
Luis didn’t.
Mason stopped.
I didn’t ask anyone to restrain him.
I didn’t want a fight.
“Stay where you are,” I said. “The police can sort this out.”
Mason stared at me with naked hatred.
Then, slowly, he took the black device from his apron.
He set it on a table.
