Normal. Everything had to look normal.
Kevin was already at his desk, head bent over paperwork. He glanced up when she came in—just a flicker of eye contact, barely a second—then went back to whatever he was pretending to read.
Good. He understood.
Jo crossed to her own desk without stopping, without saying good morning, without doing any of the small things she normally would have done. Anyone watching would see two colleagues getting on with their day. Nothing more.
Wyatt came in a few minutes later, coffee in hand, Lucy trailing at his heels. He looked rough—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders tight with tension he was trying to hide. But henodded at Jo, exchanged a few words with Reese at the front desk, settled into his chair like it was any other day.
Lucy didn't settle. She circled Wyatt's desk once, then padded over to Sam's office door and lay down there instead, her head on her paws, watching Wyatt from across the room.
Jo noticed. Dogs always knew.
Jo watched him over the top of her computer screen. Cataloging. Analyzing. Looking for cracks.
He pulled up case files. Standard procedure. His fingers moved across the keyboard with their usual speed, but Jo noticed the way his eyes kept drifting to his phone. The way his jaw tightened every time it buzzed.
Something was eating at him. Something bad.
Compromised or coerced?The question kept circling in Jo's mind. She'd seen dirty cops before—the way they got cocky, started covering their tracks with sloppy confidence. Wyatt didn't look cocky. He looked hunted.
Lucy settled at his feet, but she kept lifting her head, watching him with those knowing eyes. Dogs always knew.
Keller arrived mid-morning.
He came through the front doors with none of the federal swagger Jo had seen from other FBI agents. No suit, no power play, just a tired man in a rumpled jacket who looked like he hadn't been sleeping much better than the rest of them.
He stopped at Sam's office first—courtesy knock, waited to be waved in. Jo couldn't hear what they were saying through the glass, but she watched Keller's body language. Shoulders down. Hands open. The posture of someone asking, not demanding.
Ten minutes later, he emerged and crossed the squad room toward the coffee station. Major was perched on the filing cabinet nearby, watching with that slow, judgmental blink cats did so well. Keller poured himself a cup, took a sip, winced at the burnt taste.
"Chief Mason warned me about this coffee," he said, glancing at Major. The cat's tail flicked once. "Should've listened."
Major offered no sympathy. He rarely did.
Jo didn't smile, but something in her chest loosened slightly. Small talk. Human. Not the cold federal machine she'd been bracing for.
Keller caught her eye. "Detective Harris. Heck of a week."
"That's one way to put it."
"Cooper was a good man." He shook his head, staring down at his cup. "Fifteen years I worked with him. Trusted him with my life."
Jo heard the grief in his voice—raw and real. Either Keller was an excellent actor, or he was exactly what he appeared to be: a partner trying to find justice for his friend.
"I'm sorry," she said, and meant it.
Keller nodded, then glanced around the squad room. His voice dropped slightly. “Agent Shaw hasn’t shared much information with me, has she with you?”
“No.”
He shrugged, casual. “Strange.”
He drained the rest of his coffee, grimaced again, and set the cup down. "I'm going to check in with your tech specialist. See if there's anything new on the digital front."
Jo watched him cross the room toward Wyatt's desk. Watched Wyatt's shoulders tense almost imperceptibly when Keller approached. Watched the two of them exchange words she couldn't hear.
Keller was playing a long game. Jo could feel it. But whose side was he really on?