The smell of coffee and baked goods filled the coffee shop. Henry was not a fan of fancy coffees, but he certainly enjoyed a delicious English pastry. His eyes scanned the display of desserts, seeing if there was something he could take home after talking with Thomas's father.

"Hungry?"

He looked up at Jo, who was stifling a laugh. "I do enjoy a good pastry now and again."

"We certainly have those," A man said, coming up from behind the counter. "What would you like?"

"Nothing right now," Henry said politely, before turning to look at Jo.

"NYPD," She said, showing her badge to the man.

He nodded. "Is this about Thomas?"

Jo shook her head. "No, Mr. Thatcher. I spoke with your wife just a few hours ago. Your son has been cleared as a suspect." She paused a moment, allowing the relief to sink into Mr. Thatcher's mind. "We, actually, have a few questions for you."

"Certainly," He said, taking off his apron. Looking over toward the kitchen, he called for one of his employees to take the register. Turning back to them, he offered the pair coffee and escorted them over to a table in the corner of his shop. Henry was quite taken with the overall feel of this coffee shop. A couple sofas, a few plush chairs, and varying tables were arranged neatly on one side, while a small bar of creams, sugars, and utensils stood on the other. It was all very homey.

"Have either of these women ever come in for coffee?" Jo asked, pulling out the photographs that were shown to his son.

Mr. Thatcher pulled out his glasses and looked over the photos. "Yes, both these women are regulars. They come in on relatively the same days, though I don't believe they have ever spoken."

"How long have they been coming?"

"Jennifer has been coming for the last two years or so. Abigail is a relatively new, though. Only been in these last few months."

Henry was the one to ask a question now. "Did either of them ever spend any time with your son?"

Mr. Thatcher looked at him, puzzled. "No, why do you ask?"

"We found Thomas's hair at the crime scene."

His eyes widened slightly, and Henry couldn't help but think how much Thomas looked like his Father in that moment. However, rather than exploding with anger, Thomas's father simply sat there in stunned silence.

"Mr. Thatcher, please, don't worry," Jo said reassuringly. "Your son is not a suspect. As I said before, he's been cleared. If your son has spent any time with these women, prior to their deaths, that could explain away the hair we found at the crime scene."

"No, Thomas never spent time with Jennifer or Abigail, apart from taking their order." He paused a moment, and Henry could see a flicker of remembrance shoot across his face. "Actually, there was one time..."

"Go on, Mr. Thatcher." She said.

"Around a week ago, Thomas was taking Abigail's order, when this man came into the shop. He came up to her and started yelling, quite loudly. By the way Abigail reacted, I'd say she knew the man, and was frightened of him. Thomas politely told the man he needed to leave, and things got physical. He took a swing at Thomas, but thankfully, there were a couple other men near by and they put a stop to it. The man put up a fight and tried to grab at Abigail, but Thomas pulled her out of the way. She was pretty shaken up."

"Did you call the police?" Henry asked.

"Absolutely," He said, nodding firmly. "They were here within minutes and took the man away. It was the last we saw of him."

Henry and Jo spent the next few minutes talking more with Mr. Thatcher, who refused to be called anything but Allen, until they realized there was nothing more he could do to help. They both grabbed a cup of coffee to go, and were just about to leave, until Henry heard something that caught his attention. There was a woman at the counter, and Allen was offering her one of their reward cards. From what he could hear, customer's spent a certain amount of money, and they could receive free items. Henry moved quickly to the counter, trying not to look like he was cutting in line, though he clearly was doing so.

"Allen, can I ask you about the rewards program you use here?"

Allen looked slightly startled, but quickly recovered. "All you have to do is give a bit of your personal information; it's loaded onto this card," He said, holding up the green card. "And when you come in to buy something, just have us scan the card. The amount you spend adds up to free food, beverages, or discounts."

"Henry," Jo whispered more harshly than she intended. "What are you doing?"

He ignored her, and posed another question. "What personal information, exactly?"

"The normal information...your name, address, and email, but that's optional."

"You have that information stored somewhere, correct?"

Allen nodded. "Of course."

Suddenly, Henry turned to look at Jo, startling her. "Our killer could be on that list."

Her eyes flashed understanding, before a small smile formed on her face. She turned toward Mr. Thatcher. "Would it be possible for us to get a copy of that list? Of course, it wouldn't be seen by any other than my colleagues, so no personal information would be compromised."

He hesitated slightly, before giving his consent. Within moments, Henry and Jo were in possession of a list that could change the course of their investigation. No more chasing after leads destined to go cold.

They thanked Allen multiple times, before heading back out to the car. As Henry opened the door and got into the car, he realized he left his coffee inside. It would only take him a minute or so to retrieve it. Little did he know that minute would be a changing point in his life. For it took only one minute for Henry to lose the one person he had feared would be taken from him. The car was there, and so was her gun and badge.

But Jo was gone.