Someone had been here.
Someone had put that body in his trunk.
And they wanted him to find it.
CHAPTER TWO
Sam pulled up to Wyatt's place, where the officer waited at his usual spot at the end of the driveway. The morning sun filtered through the pine trees, casting long shadows across the gravel. He’d picked Wyatt up a few times since his car had started acting up. Sam didn’t mind, it was a chance to check in with one of his officers before the day began.
But something felt different this morning.
The passenger door opened before the Tahoe fully stopped. Lucy, curled up in the back seat, lifted her head as Wyatt climbed in. She immediately stretched forward, pressing her nose against his shoulder with an unusual whine. Sam had grown used to Lucy's morning greetings - usually a happy bark followed by attempts to lick whoever was closest. This quiet concern was new.
Wyatt gave her a distracted pat, his attention fixed on his phone screen. Through the windshield, Sam saw nothing but forest. No houses, no power lines, just the rutted track of Wyatt’s driveway swallowed by pines.
"Something important?" Sam asked, pulling back onto the road. The Tahoe's tires crunched over gravel before finding asphalt. A light mist still hung in the air, typical for springmornings in White Rock. It would burn off by mid-morning, but for now it gave the town an ethereal quality.
"Messaging my mom," Wyatt replied, fingers moving across the screen. "She's been sick. Nothing serious."
Lucy pushed her head further into Wyatt's arm, her ears forward and alert. She'd been extra protective of Wyatt since his hospital stay, but this felt different. Sam had learned to trust Lucy's instincts - those instincts had saved their lives more than once.
"That's rough," Sam said, steering them past Brewed Awakening, where Jo would be picking up their usual morning coffee. The familiar scent of fresh-brewed coffee drifted through the Tahoe's vents. "She okay?"
"She'll be fine."
Sam let that settle as they drove through town. The morning fog still clung to the fields along Old Mill Road, and the spring air carried the scent of fresh-cut grass. They passed Harry Woolsten's house, where the retired chief was already out in his workshop. His wife's campaign to keep him busy seemed to be working - he'd taken up woodworking lately, though Sam had his doubts about the birdhouses Harry kept giving everyone at the station.
Lucy stayed pressed against Wyatt's shoulder, her usual playful morning demeanor replaced by something more watchful. She'd been like this once before, Sam remembered - the day they'd found that witness hiding in the old mill. She'd known something was wrong before any of them.
"She's been glued to you since you got in," Sam observed, turning onto River Road. The pavement here was still rough from winter damage, making the Tahoe bounce slightly.
Wyatt finally looked up from his phone. "Huh?"
"Lucy," Sam nodded toward the dog. Through the rearview mirror, he could see her pressed against Wyatt's shoulder, ears still forward. "Won't leave you alone."
"Guess she missed me." Wyatt shrugged, setting his phone face-down on his thigh.
"She's got good instincts," Sam said lightly, then changed the subject. "Anyway, brace yourself. Nettie Deardorff called again."
Some of the tension eased from Wyatt's shoulders. "Already?"
"Yep." Sam took the turn onto Old Mill Road, where the morning fog created halos around the streetlights that hadn't yet switched off. "Apparently, Henrietta's been chasing Bitsy around the yard."
"Henrietta?"
"The chicken."
Wyatt turned to face him. "You're telling me a goat is afraid of a chicken?"
"That's what Nettie says. Called three times this morning already. Says Bitsy won't come out from behind the tractor, and Henrietta's strutting around like she owns the place."
"That makes no sense."
"Does anything with those two?" Sam chuckled, remembering all the calls they'd had to Nettie's place. The time Bitsy had gotten stuck in the kitchen after figuring out how to use the doggy door. The great escape when both animals had somehow worked together to open the gate, only to be found grazing in a neighbors flower garden.
A small smile crossed Wyatt's face. "Will those two ever get along?"
"If they did, I'd be out of a job." Sam grinned, steering the Tahoe onto Nettie's long driveway. The gravel here was fresh, probably from where the spring rains had washed out the oldsurface. "Though I have to admit, this is a new one. Usually it's Bitsy causing the trouble."