His mind raced through possibilities. Who had that kind of skill? Who had the access and the motive?
Kevin sat in the dark, laptop closed, internet dead, and felt the walls of his apartment press closer.
He'd stumbled into something much bigger than a symbol on an earring. Bigger than Bridget's past, bigger than a dead FBI agent in the woods.
And now, whoever was on the other end of this thing knew he was looking.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The next morning, Jo noticed something was off before she’d even finished her first cup of coffee.
Kevin had beaten her to the station—unusual for him. He was already at his desk, staring at his computer screen with the kind of intensity that suggested he wasn’t actually seeing it. When Wyatt walked in ten minutes later, Kevin’s head came up. Just for a second. Just long enough for Jo to catch the look that passed between them.
Not friendly. Not hostile either. Something else. Wary.
“Sleep okay?” Kevin asked. The question was casual. The tone wasn’t.
“Fine.” Wyatt didn’t look up as he dropped into his chair. “You?”
“Not really.” Kevin’s jaw tightened. “Computer trouble. Had to kill my internet last night.”
Something flickered across Wyatt’s face—there and gone so fast Jo almost missed it. He pulled up his usual screens, fingers moving mechanically. “That sucks. Virus?”
“Something like that.”
The silence stretched. Lucy padded over to Wyatt and settled at his feet, but even she seemed unsettled—head up, ears swiveling, watching the room like she expected trouble.
Major dropped from his perch on the filing cabinet and wound between desks until he reached Wyatt’s chair. The cat sat and stared up at him with those unnervingly intelligent eyes, tail flicking slowly. Wyatt ignored him. Major didn’t seem to care—he just kept watching, like he knew something no one else did.
Jo filed it away. Kevin knew something. Wyatt knew Kevin knew something. And neither of them was talking.
Shaw arrived mid-morning with Shadow, coffee cups balanced in a cardboard carrier.
The moment Shadow walked through the door, Lucy’s head came up. Her tail started wagging before Shaw had even reached the desks. Shadow’s ears pricked forward, and when Shaw unclipped his leash, he made straight for Lucy.
The two dogs touched noses, then settled together near Wyatt’s desk—Lucy pressing her shoulder against Shadow’s side, Shadow’s tail sweeping the floor in slow, content wags. Whatever mysterious connection they shared, it hadn’t faded.
“Thought you could use these,” she said, setting one on Kevin’s desk, another on Jo’s, the third on Wyatt’s.
It was a small gesture—the kind that built trust. Jo had seen it before, back when she was working undercover. The way you made yourself useful, made yourself part of the team, so people stopped watching you so closely.
She thanked Shaw and took a sip. The coffee was good. Strong. Exactly how she liked it.
Major had retreated to the top of the filing cabinet when Shadow entered. Now he sat rigid, green eyes fixed on the German Shepherd with feline disdain. Shadow glanced up at him once, then dismissed him entirely, turning his attention back to Lucy.
“Any progress on the Cooper connection?” Shaw asked, settling into an empty chair.
“Still working through the business records you sent over,” Kevin said. “Some of these companies have shell corporations layered three deep.”
“That’s their playbook.” Shaw nodded. “Follow the money far enough and it always leads back to the same places. Takes patience.”
Jo watched her over the rim of her cup. Shaw was good—attentive, knowledgeable, genuinely helpful. She’d shared more intel in three days than Keller had since he arrived. But there was something underneath it. Something Jo couldn’t quite name.
Shaw asked a lot of questions. About the department. About the team. About cases that weren’t directly related to Cooper’s murder. She framed them casually—just making conversation, getting the lay of the land—but Jo had been a cop long enough to recognize an interrogation when she was in one.
“How long has Wyatt been with the department?” Shaw asked now, glancing toward his empty desk. He’d stepped out a few minutes ago, muttering something about needing air. Lucy had stayed behind with Shadow, the two dogs curled together like old friends.
“Couple years,” Jo said. “Why?”