Reese didn’t hesitate, plucking out a glazed croissant and taking a careful bite. Her eyes closed. “You can stay.”
Bridget laughed, giving a mock salute before heading down the hall.
The door to Sam’s office was open when she stepped in. The air inside felt heavier—thick with frustration and the particular tension that came from cops being told to back off their own case.
Jo, Kevin, Wyatt, and Sam were all gathered around Sam’s desk. A man stood near the window, reviewing a file, keeping a respectful distance from the group. Jo leaned against the filing cabinet, arms crossed. Kevin sat sideways in a chair, one leg hooked over the armrest. Wyatt stood near the coffee maker, staring at nothing. Sam was behind his desk, jaw tight.
Lucy lay at Sam’s feet, her head resting on her paws, watching everyone with those alert brown eyes.
The whiteboard behind them was covered in crime scene photos and scribbled notes—strings of information connected by arrows and question marks.
“Bridget, you are my favorite person right now,” Jo declared the moment she saw the box.
“You say that,” Kevin said, already reaching for a pastry, “but I don’t see you sharing.”
Bridget set the box down on the desk. “No fighting. There’s enough for everyone.”
Kevin grabbed a chocolate muffin. Jo snagged a danish, powdered sugar immediately dusting her fingers. Even Wyatt took something—a plain croissant—though his expression remained distant, elsewhere. Sam muttered a thanks, taking a glazed croissant. Keller shook his head politely when offered, but there was something almost wistful in the gesture, like he remembered a time when he would have said yes.
“What’s the latest?” Bridget asked, keeping her tone casual.
“Agent Keller’s been filling us in on what Cooper was investigating,” Sam nodded to the man. “Organized crime syndicate. Been operating in the region for over a decade.”
Keller looked up from his file. “Cooper was getting close. Too close, apparently.” His voice was steady, but the grief underneath it was audible. “He’d identified several front businesses, money laundering operations. The kind of evidence that could bring down the whole network.”
“And now it’s gone,” Jo said flatly. “Along with Cooper.”
Keller nodded. “Which is why I’m hoping we can pool resources. You know this town, these people. I know the syndicate’s patterns, their methods.” He closed the file. “Together, we might be able to find what Cooper found—and the people who killed him for it.”
Before anyone could respond, Reese’s voice carried down the hall—professional but with a note of surprise.
“Can I help you?”
A woman’s voice answered, calm and measured. “Agent Lennox Shaw, FBI. I’m here about the Cooper case.”
The room went still.
Sam and Keller exchanged a look. Keller’s brow furrowed—genuine confusion crossing his features.
“Another agent?” Sam asked quietly.
Keller shook his head, his expression troubled. “I wasn’t told anyone else was coming.”
Footsteps approached down the hall. Lucy’s head came up, her ears pricking forward. But instead of the wariness she’d shown with strangers, her tail began to thump against the floor.
The woman who appeared in the doorway was tall and lean, with medium blonde hair and the kind of face that had seen things and catalogued them for later use. She wore a practical blazer over a dark shirt, her FBI credentials visible on her belt. But what drew everyone’s attention was the dog at her side.
A black German Shepherd. Large, well-muscled, with intelligent eyes that swept the room the same way his handler’s did. He wore a working harness, the kind K-9 units used,but there was something different about him—something that suggested his training went beyond standard police work.
Lucy was already on her feet, tail wagging in earnest now. She padded toward the German Shepherd, and something remarkable happened.
The big shepherd’s entire demeanor changed. His tail began to wag, slow at first, then faster. He lowered his head, and Lucy pressed her nose against his. They circled each other once, twice, tails wagging in sync, and then Lucy gave a soft whuff of greeting—the sound she usually reserved for people she loved.
The room watched in stunned silence.
“Well,” Shaw said, a hint of dry humor in her voice. “That’s new.”
Sam stared at Lucy, then at the shepherd. “They know each other?”