Reese wasn’t buying it. “Bridget said you were getting close to him.” Her tone softened, like she didn’t want to spook Jo.
Jo nodded, keeping her expression unreadable. Liking someone didn’t guarantee they stuck around.
She walked past Reese into the squad room. Major, the station’s black cat, sat perched on a filing cabinet, watching the room like he owned it. Lucy trotted over to Jo, and Major leaned down to sniff the dog, blinking slowly and deliberately, as if passing judgment on the dog.
Jo went straight to the Keurig, her hands working on autopilot, setting up coffee for the team. The motions kept her busy, kept her mind from unraveling.
“Garvin have next of kin?” Sam’s voice cut through the air. He stood by the window, his face in shadow. His tone wasn’t casual. He was already thinking ahead, turning something over in his mind.
“He’s got two kids, but they’re not local,” Jo replied, focusing on the sound of the coffee brewing, anything to steady herself.
Kevin chimed in. “I’ll track them down.”
Sam gave a curt nod. “Wyatt, check his financials. See if there’s anything off.”
Wyatt was already at his keyboard, typing fast, eyes narrowed. The guy worked like he had something to prove.
“Reese,” Sam continued, “download the photos. Get them printed. I want them on the board.” Hepaused, glancing at Jo. “And see if you can find a value on that bronze bust. Jo can fill you in.”
Jo passed out the coffees, watching Sam out of the corner of her eye. He wasn’t saying everything, but that was typical. There was something lurking behind his eyes, something he wasn’t ready to share yet.
The door swung open, and Marnie Wilson strode in, her heels clicking on the worn floor. Jo’s gaze snapped to her, and that feeling in her gut stirred. Marnie looked too concerned, her perfectly composed face a little too tight.
“Is it true? Garvin McDaniels is dead?” Marnie’s voice wavered, but there was something behind it that Jo couldn’t place. Something that didn’t sit right.
Sam watched her closely, his eyes narrowing. “News travels fast,” he said, voice measured. “Were you close to him?”
Marnie blinked, too quickly. “Well, no, not close. But I spoke to him a few times. You know, I wanted to understand what seniors in town care about. It’s part of my campaign.”
Jo’s stomach twisted. There it was—Marnie’s politician mask slipping back into place. Jo didn’t trust her. Never had.
“What happened? Was it a heart attack? Astroke?” Marnie pressed, her fingers curling tight around the strap of her bag.
Sam didn’t miss a beat. “Can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” he said, voice cool.
Marnie paled. “An investigation? You mean he was murdered?” Her voice jumped, but there was something in her eyes that Jo caught—fear, maybe. Or something else.
“Like I said,” Sam replied, his tone unchanged, “we can’t comment.”
Marnie took a breath, smoothing her skirt with a practiced hand. The veneer of concern fell back into place. “Of course. It’s just... It’s always upsetting to see one of our fine townspeople pass away.”
Her words were polished, perfect for a campaign, but Jo wasn’t buying it. Jo watched Marnie walk out the door, her gut telling her this wasn’t merely concern for a local’s passing. There was more to it. A lot more.
CHAPTER THREE
Sam stood in front of the corkboard in his office, eyes scanning the crime scene photos, each one a piece of a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. Jo leaned against the desk, arms crossed, the weight of Garvin’s death pressing heavily on her.
“All right,” Sam said, low and measured. “Let’s go over the scene.”
Wyatt and Kevin exchanged a glance, the tension in the room thick. Lucy dozed in a patch of sunlight by the window, oblivious.
Jo stepped forward, eyes locked on the picture of Garvin’s body. “They broke in, surprised him.”
Sam nodded, brow furrowed. “But why? What were they after?”
Wyatt pointed to a shot of a smashed chair andscattered dishes. “He fought back. Not bad for a guy his age.”
“Yeah, but whoever it was, they won,” Kevin added. “One person? Or more?”