Lucy, who had been lying patiently by Jo’s side, pressed her head against Jo’s leg as if sensing the tension. Jo reached down, her fingers absently scratchingLucy’s ears.
Bruce took a deep breath, his gaze drifting to the window. “He was really determined to do this right, to make sure the land wasn’t just another piece of real estate. That was the last time I talked to him.”
Jo shifted in her seat, processing. “So he didn’t fully trust whatever information he had yet?”
Bruce nodded. “Exactly. I got the feeling there was something he hadn’t told me. He was always straightforward with his wishes—until recently.”
Sam glanced at Jo, his brows furrowing. “Bruce, would there be any records here at the firm—anything that might show what he was researching?”
Bruce shook his head. “Garvin kept most of his personal documents close to the chest. He only brought in what we needed to update the will. So any additional information would likely be in his own files or with... whoever he was planning to meet.”
Jo’s mind was whirring, piecing together a picture that felt more sinister by the minute. Marnie’s denial, Convale’s donations, and Garvin’s cautious approach. The land on River Road wasn’t just real estate. To Garvin, it had become something worth protecting.
She caught Sam’s eye, and he gave a small nod. He sensed it too—this wasn’t just about family estates or preservation societies.
“Thank you, Bruce,” Sam said, standing. “You’ve been a big help.”
Bruce rose, showing them to the door. “Chief, Sergeant”—his gaze softened on Lucy—“and Lucy. I hope you find who did this.”
“We’re going to try,” Jo replied, her voice a little tight. “Thanks again, Mr. Benedict.”
As they stepped outside, a gust of cold air hit them, and Jo took a long, deep breath.
Sam was quiet as they made their way to the cruiser then finally muttered, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Jo’s jaw tightened as she glanced back at the old Victorian. “I think Garvin knew something about that land. And somebody didn’t want it getting out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sam steered the cruiser into the drive-through lane at Brewed Awakening, rolling up to the speaker, where Zoe’s cheerful voice came through loud and clear.
“Welcome to Brewed Awakening! What can I get for you today?”
Sam leaned out the window. “Hey, Zoe. Two coffees, the usual. And a box of doughnuts for the station.” He glanced at the back seat. “And doughnut holes for Lucy.”
Zoe laughed. “As if I’d forget Lucy’s order. That dog has a memory like a bank vault.”
Lucy gave a soft woof, pressing her nose to the glass, tail wagging.
“See that?” Jo asked, smiling. “She knows.”
They pulled up to the window, and Zoe leaned out with their order. She handed Sam a tray with the coffees, a big box of doughnuts, and a smaller bag for Lucy. “Here you go, Chief. And Lucy, there’s your special delivery.”
“Thanks, Zoe,” Jo said, taking the treats and passing the bag to Lucy, who carefully pulled out a doughnut hole, crunching it with satisfaction.
“You two look serious,” Zoe said, eyeing them as Sam passed the tray to Jo. “Everything okay?”
Sam gave her a polite smile. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix.”
They pulled out, the cruiser filling up with the smell of coffee and sugar. Lucy nosed the bag, looking for seconds, but Jo gently tucked it aside.
“Save some for later, girl,” Jo said.
They drove a few miles in silence before Jo spoke up. “So… about the cottage.”
Sam’s eyes flicked toward her, his tone easy but direct. “You’re worried about losing it?”
Jo nodded, tightening her grip on the coffee cup. “It’s not just a place to live, Sam. It’s home. For me, for Bridget, even for Pickles. Losing it would be…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Not an option.”