His coffee sat untouched, going cold on the desk. His shoulders were tight, bunched like he was bracing for impact. And his eyes—they moved across the screen, but they weren’t tracking. Weren’t reading.
Even with Shaw sitting right there, pointing things out, helping him focus, something was off.
He was thinking about something else.
Something that had him wound so tight she half-expected him to snap.
Jo slowly stirred more sugar into her coffee mug. Bought herself a few seconds to watch without being obvious.
Kevin said something—she didn’t catch what—and Wyatt’s head snapped up. Just for a second. Then he laughed, the sound thin and wrong, and went back to his screen.
Something was wrong.
Really wrong.
And whatever it was, Wyatt was trying very hard to make sure no one noticed.
Major jumped down from the filing cabinet, landing with a soft thud. He padded across the floor, tail high, and stopped at Wyatt’s desk.
Wyatt didn’t notice. He was still staring at his screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard but not moving.
The cat sat. Watched. Waited.
Lucy’s tail thumped against the floor. Once. Twice. She was pressed against Shadow’s side, but her eyes were on Wyatt.
Then she stood, crossed to Wyatt’s side, and rested her head on his knee.
He blinked. Looked down. His hand moved to her head, scratching behind her ears in that automatic way people did when they needed something to hold onto.
Jo turned back to her work.
But she kept Wyatt in her peripheral vision.
Kept watching.
Because whatever was happening, whatever had him this rattled, she had a feeling it was about to get worse.
And when it did, she wanted to be ready.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Keller had stayed behind after the meeting broke up.
Sam noticed him lingering by the door as the others filed out, folder still in hand. When the squad room settled back into its working rhythm, Keller stepped back into the office and closed the door behind him.
"Chief. Got another minute?"
Sam settled back in his chair, reading Keller's expression. The grief was still there—it had been days since they'd found Cooper's body, but the weight of it hadn't lifted from Keller's shoulders. If anything, it seemed heavier.
"What's on your mind?"
Keller shifted the folder in his hands. He didn't drop it on Sam's desk the way some federal agents would—demanding attention, asserting dominance. He just held it, like he wasn't sure how to begin.
"I need to ask for something," Keller said. "And I know how it's going to sound, so I want to explain first."
Sam nodded, giving him space to talk.
"Cooper was close to something." Keller's jaw tightened. "He'd been working this case for eighteen months. Building connections, following money trails, identifying the people atthe top of this organization. And then someone killed him." He paused, collecting himself. "I owe it to him to finish what he started."