Lucy, still seated beside Sam, perked up, ears pricked, nose working overtime. A quiet whine slipped out.
Sam shot her a look. “No.”
She huffed dramatically, easing into a flop, chin on her paws, eyes locked on the box like she was memorizing it for later.
Kevin smirked. “She’s plotting against you, man. You’re gonna wake up one day and find all your donuts missing and a suspicious pile of crumbs.”
Major yawned, then stretched so far one paw hung off the edge of the cabinet. His tail flicked in Lucy’s direction. She watched it, fascinated, but stayed put.
Then Jo spoke. “Where’s Wyatt?”
Sam exhaled through his nose. “Had to check in on his mom. Guess she’s sick.”
Kevin frowned. “Wait—Wyatt has a mom in town?”
Jo smirked. “He has to have a mom somewhere, Kevin.”
Kevin waved her off. “Yeah, but I thought maybe he was grown in a lab or something.”
Jo laughed. “That would explain the brooding.”
Kevin leaned back in his chair. “I just mean, the guy doesn’t talk about his personal life. Ever. He’s like a witness protection pamphlet with a badge.”
“Plays things close to the vest,” Jo agreed, softer now.
Sam leaned back too, stretching out his legs under the desk. His knee bumped a drawer and it rattled. “Maybe too close.”
Jo studied him over the rim of her glasses. “You thinking something’s up?”
Sam took a slow sip of coffee before answering. The mug warmed his hand; it didn’t do much for the knot between his shoulders.
He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions. And he sure as heck wasn’t the type to push when someone wasn’t ready to talk. He knew what it was to lock parts of yourself down and call it survival.
People didn’t spill their secrets until they were ready. Sam knew, he had plenty of his own.
But Wyatt’s behavior this morning—how he’d gone quiet, the way his hand hovered near his phone, the lie that didn’t sit right about his mom—none of it fit the steady, reliable deputy Sam knew.
He set his mug down, the ceramic clicking against the desk.
Jo reached into the box and snagged the last donut before Kevin could get there.
Kevin watched her finish it with something close to betrayal. “I was gonna eat that.”
“You hesitated,” Jo said, mouth half-full. “Hesitation kills.”
Kevin sighed and slumped back in his chair, pen spinning between his fingers. Across the room, Major rolled to his other side, then curled tighter, looking down at them like a judge overseeing his kingdom.
Lucy, sprawled near Jo’s desk, let out a soft sigh and rested her nose on her paws, eyes drifting half-closed.
The squad room settled into a low murmur—pages turning, keys clacking, the occasional ring of a phone out front. For a moment, everything was quiet in the way stations got quiet: full of things unsaid.
Sam glanced once at the empty chair where Wyatt usually sat. The absence felt louder than the noise.
Then Reese walked in.
Her usual smirk was gone. Her shoulders were tighter, chin set. The air in the room shifted before she even spoke.
“We’ve got a body.”