Sam gave a small nod. “If Garvindidn’t finalize his will, that leaves his kids in charge, right? And neither of them lives in White Rock?”
Jo’s lips curved into a hint of a smile. “Exactly. They might be open to selling.”
They stopped at a red light, and Sam glanced at her. “But?”
She sighed, her gaze drifting to the storefronts of White Rock sliding past. “But there’s still that other interested party. What if they don’t want me to be the buyer?”
“Marnie?” Sam’s voice hardened. “Convale?”
Jo shrugged. “Could be anyone with a stake in this. They see something in that property Garvin never talked about.”
Sam’s jaw tightened. “We’ll deal with that if we have to. Right now, let’s stick to what we know.”
The light turned green, and they moved forward. Jo found herself staring out the window, thinking of Bridget, Pickles, the garden Bridget had been dreaming up. She’d carved out a life here. Losing it wouldn’t just be moving houses; it would be uprooting her entire peace of mind.
“You know,” Sam said, breaking into her thoughts, “whatever happens, you’ve got people in your corner. Bridget, the team, and me. We’re here.”
Jo gave a quick nod, her smile small but genuine. “Good to know, Sam.”
Sam pulledthe cruiser into the parking lot, the old post office-turned-police station coming into view. The familiar sight should’ve been reassuring, but Jo’s mind was elsewhere—on Garvin, the will, and what it all meant for her cottage.
Reese was at her desk in the reception area, busy with the latest small-town issue.
“No, Mrs. Deardorff, the police department doesn’t handle goat-related property disputes,” Reese said, her voice a mix of patience and amusement. “Maybe you could talk to your neighbor about Bitsy’s taste for petunias?”
Sam raised an eyebrow at Jo, a faint smile on his face. Some things in White Rock never changed. He stepped inside, the scent of doughnuts wafting ahead of him.
Reese’s eyes lit up as she spotted the doughnut box. She mouthed a quick “Thank you” as she reached for a glazed twist, finishing her call with Mrs. Deardorff before turning to them.
In the squad room, Kevin and Wyattperked up at the sight of the doughnuts. “Help yourselves, guys,” Sam said, setting the box on the table. “We’ve got news.”
As Wyatt and Kevin dove in, Sam gave a rundown of their meeting with Bruce Benedict. Garvin’s plans to change his will. His research into the River Road property. And the other interested party—who might or might not be Marnie Wilson.
“So Garvin was digging into the land’s history?” Wyatt asked, wiping a trace of glaze from his fingers.
Jo nodded. “Benedict didn’t have details, but whatever Garvin found, it sounded like he was meeting someone about it.”
“A few of his neighbors weren’t home when I went up there yesterday. I’ll revisit them.” Kevin leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen on the desk. “But we still don’t know if that other buyer is Marnie?”
“Not officially,” Sam said. “But her interest lines up a little too well, especially with Convale throwing money her way.”
A weight settled over the room. Lucy padded over to Jo, resting her head on Jo’s knee. Jo scratched behind the dog’s ears, appreciating the comfort.
The quiet shattered when Reese burst in, her face flushed with something close to alarm.
“What is it?” Sam asked, standing up.
Reese took a deep breath. “We got a hit on the DNA from the hair tie we found at Garvin’s.”
A spark of hope flashed in Jo’s eyes. “Someone we know?”
Reese hesitated, glancing between Jo and Sam. “It wasn’t a match in CODIS. But…” She paused, the words catching. “It matched someone in law enforcement.”
Silence fell. Sam’s voice was measured, careful. “Who, Reese?”
Reese swallowed. “It matched Jo.”
The room went still. Jo felt like the floor had dropped beneath her. Lucy pressed closer, her warm weight the only thing steadying her in the shock.