Sam’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Her people wrote that for her. Probably took them hours to get the tone just right.”
Marnie continued, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I want to thank my supporters for their unwavering dedication and passion. White Rock deserves a leader who can give one hundred percent to this community, and at this time, I cannot do that.”
“She’s trying to salvage her reputation,” Jo said, shaking her head. “But let’s face it—her career’s over.”
Sam finally glanced at Jo. “That’s the deal. She bows out gracefully and no charges are pressed. It’s a win for her people.”
“And a win for the rest of us too,” Jo muttered. “Jamison might not be the best mayor, but at least he’s not shady like Marnie.”
On the screen, Marnie stepped back from the podium as reporters shouted questions, microphones thrust toward her. She didn’t answer a single one, disappearing behind the curtain with the efficiency of someone who’d practiced the exit a dozen times.
Sam muted the television and rubbed his jaw. “Shegot off easy. But you saw her back there—she’s finished. She won’t recover from this.”
Jo stood, pacing the small office. “And Beryl? She just walks away too?”
“She was smart. Didn’t leave any evidence pointing to her.” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “At least I’ve got leverage now. That photo in the box? It levels the playing field. Beryl won’t risk using what she has on me, not if she knows I can hit back just as hard.”
Jo stopped pacing, her expression hard. “It’s not enough. She’s still in the game. Still pulling strings.”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “But for now, she’s neutralized. That’s the best we can hope for.”
Jo didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned toward the door. “I’m heading out. Got a meeting with Garvin’s kids. Signing the Purchase and Sale for the cottage tonight.”
Sam nodded. “Good luck.”
She offered him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”
As Jo left, Sam turned the volume back up, the muted hum of reporters filling the room. He leaned back, staring at the screen but not really seeing it.
Marnie was out of the picture. Beryl was temporarily contained. But Griggs’s silence hauntedhim. Someone powerful and ruthless was still out there, pulling strings, and Sam didn’t like how close they’d come to losing control of the game.
The warm glowof the fireplace flickered across the room, painting the walls of Jo’s cottage with a golden light. Outside, the snow whispered against the windows, a muffled backdrop to the low hum of voices and laughter inside.
Jo stood near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, her eyes sweeping the room. Kevin was setting snacks on the coffee table. Beside him, Bridget was laying out plates, her movements practiced and efficient. Every now and then, their shoulders would brush, and Kevin would glance at her, quickly looking away before Bridget noticed.
Except she noticed. Jo could see it in the small, satisfied smile Bridget gave when she thought no one was looking.
In the corner, Mick was nursing a whiskey, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. Lucy had claimed the rug in front of the fireplace, her head resting on her paws but her eyes flicking to eachperson in turn, her ears perking up at the occasional clink of glass or burst of laughter.
Wyatt was slouched in the armchair by the window, one boot resting on his knee, spinning a bottle cap between his fingers like he didn’t have a care in the world. Except when he was checking his phone, which he seemed to be doing quite regularly.
Sam leaned against the mantel, his gaze flickering over the room, but Jo could tell he wasn’t entirely at ease. He never was.
This was it, Jo thought. Her people. Her home.
Jo rose to her feet, lifting her glass in one hand and motioning for quiet with the other. The room settled, the hum of conversation fading as everyone turned their attention to her. She glanced around, meeting the eyes of each person present, her gaze lingering a little longer on Sam then Mick before finally settling on Bridget.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Jo began, her voice steady but warm. “Thank you for helping me get my badge back and for finding Garvin’s killer.”
She paused, letting the words hang in the air. It wasn’t just gratitude she felt but relief—a deep, unspoken weight finally lifted from her shoulders.
“Griggs may not be talking,” she continued, her tone hardening slightly, “but we’ve got the murderweapon. That’s evidence enough to close the book on this part of the case. And none of it would’ve happened if it weren’t for all of you.”
Her gaze shifted to Mick, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “And Mick, I owe you a special thank-you. You stepped in when I was suspended and made sure I didn’t lose my mind sitting on the sidelines.”
Mick leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his face. “You’re welcome, Harris. But in case you didn’t notice, I didn’t do much helping. You’re so damn stubborn, you didn’t let me.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, breaking the tension. Jo rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the grin that followed. “Seriously, though. Thank you—all of you. For having my back. For being here. It means everything to me.”