Jo shrugged. “It’s not just about paying respects. Sam’s going to be there too. We’ll meet up afterward—he can fill me in on any updates with the case. Besides,” she added with a dry smile, “I wouldn’t miss seeing how his kids act. If there’s any animosity or guilt, I might be able to notice.”
Bridget’s worry deepened, but she kept quiet, watching Jo carefully. “Just… be careful, okay? Funerals bring out all kinds of emotions. And people.”
Jo offered a small, reassuring smile, though her eyes were clouded with something deeper. “I will. But don’t worry about me. It’s just a funeral.”
Bridget bit her lip, her anxiety gnawing at her. “I’m still not going anywhere, though.”
Jo chuckled lightly, heading toward the kitchen. “Didn’t think you would.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sam stood at the edge of the cemetery, the crisp morning air heavy with the silence that followed funerals. The lingering scent of damp earth filled his lungs as he scanned the crowd thinning around Garvin McDaniels’s grave. It wasn’t an overly large gathering—Garvin had kept to himself for the most part—but his kids were here, which was all Sam really cared about.
His eyes drifted to Derek, Garvin’s son, who was standing a little too stiffly near the grave. Leanne, on the other hand, was making no attempt to hide her fury. Her voice, sharp and biting, carried over to Sam despite the respectful distance he kept.
“You should have found who did this by now!” Leanne snapped at one of the younger officers standing nearby, her arms crossed tight over herchest. Her eyes blazed, cutting through the cool air like a knife. “And that statue—why is it still missing? Do you people even know how to do your jobs? How do you lose something so valuable?”
Sam could see the officer’s discomfort from where he stood, but Leanne wasn’t letting up. Sam had thought she would be calmer, but grief and anger had her wound tight, like a spring ready to snap.
He shifted his weight, keeping his attention focused on Derek, who hovered behind his sister. Derek wasn’t saying much, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched forward. He seemed uncomfortable but kept his head down, mumbling something to Leanne as she ranted.
Sam watched the dynamic between them with interest. Derek was the one Sam was here to observe. He’d lied about being in town, and they knew he was desperate for money, his divorce draining whatever was left of his savings. And with that missing bronze statue—a piece worth a lot of money—Sam couldn’t help but wonder if Derek’s silence was covering something darker. Did Derek kill his father for that statue, or was he just another grieving son trying to hold himself together?
Leanne’s voice rose again, her frustration palpable. “It’s been days! And we still don’t know who killedhim! What are the police doing? Waiting for clues to fall out of the sky?”
The younger officer stammered an apology, but it did nothing to cool her anger. “I swear,” Leanne continued, her voice cracking, “if you don’t find whoever did this soon, I’ll?—”
“Leanne, enough,” Derek interrupted softly, stepping closer to her. He placed a hand on her arm, trying to pull her back. “This isn’t the time.”
Leanne jerked her arm away, glaring at him. “When is the time, Derek? When? After they let the case go cold? When we’ve lost everything, just like you did?”
Sam shifted his weight, his sharp gaze catching the way Derek winced. Leanne might be angry at the police, but Derek... Derek looked like a man carrying the weight of something else entirely. Guilt, maybe?
Jo was there too. She’d arrived separately, blending in with the small crowd and keeping her distance from the family. Sam knew she was watching like he was—taking note of every little detail, every crack in the family’s facade.
Leanne stormed off toward her car, the last of the mourners dispersing behind her. Derek lingered near the grave, his gaze directed at the black hole in theearth. He seemed smaller now, his face hidden in the shadow of his coat collar.
Sam stepped back, turning toward his truck parked just outside the cemetery gates. As he approached, he heard a familiar voice call out softly behind him.
“I see you’ve still got Lucy keeping you company,” Jo said, pulling her coat tighter around her as she stepped toward the truck. A soft smile played on her lips as she glanced into the back seat, where Lucy sat, her ears perked and her tail wagging as she noticed Jo.
“She misses you,” Sam replied, opening the driver’s door and letting Lucy hop out to greet Jo. The dog bounded toward her, nuzzling Jo’s hand, and Jo knelt to give her a good scratch behind the ears. “Probably as much as you miss being in the squad room.”
Jo chuckled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, well, sitting on the sidelines has never been my style.”
Sam gestured to the passenger side of the truck. “Got doughnuts from Brewed Awakening. If that’s any consolation.”
Jo grinned, already moving toward the door. “Now you’re talking.”
They climbed into the truck, Lucy hopping into the back seat again, where she curled up on the blanket Sam kept there. Jo immediately reached for one of the doughnuts, tearing off a piece andchewing it like she hadn’t had a doughnut in months. The tension between them lightened a little, though both their minds were still on the case.
Sam’s eyes flicked back to the graveyard as they ate in silence for a moment. Derek was still standing by the grave, his face tilted down, his hands at his sides. Tears streaked his face now, but it wasn’t the crying that bothered Sam—it was how he seemed frozen there, almost too still, like he didn’t know how to leave.
“You think it’s an act?” Jo asked around a bite of her doughnut, following Sam’s gaze.
Sam didn’t answer right away. “Hard to tell. He’s grieving, sure, but... there’s something off about it.”
Jo licked some sugar off her thumb. “You think he’s guilty? Or just feeling the pressure?”