CHAPTER FIVE
Sam stepped through the doors of the White Rock Police Station, rolling his shoulders as the familiar hum of the building settled around him. The faint smell of burned coffee clung to the air, as stubborn as the scuff marks on the worn hardwood floor.
Reese was at the reception desk, a fresh stack of paperwork in front of her, coffee steaming in her favorite mug, a white snowy owl with a starry sky painted on the front.. Lucy trotted ahead, nails clicking on the floor, then paused to sniff the corner of the counter like it might be hiding treats.
Reese glanced up, smirking. “No fruitcake today, before you ask.”
Sam exhaled in mock relief, lifting the donut box. “Not yet, but Nettie threatened Wyatt with one, so be prepared. She made it sound like a promise.”
Reese shuddered theatrically. “I’m still brushing candied fruit out of my teeth from the last one.”
Lucy gave a hopeful little wag at the wordfruit.
“Peace offering,” Sam said, nudging the Brewed Awakening donut box toward her. He’d stopped after dropping off Wyatt and gotten a half dozen. “Donuts instead.”
She slid the lid back and peered inside. “Powdered sugar. You’re feeling dangerous.”
“Living on the edge.”
She plucked one out, already dusting her fingers white. “You just made paperwork slightly less soul-crushing. I’ll try to remember that next time I route complaints to your inbox.”
“I regret this already,” he said, but his mouth twitched.
“How did it go at Nettie’s?” Reese asked, taking a bite.
“Same as usual. Henrietta terrorizing everyone.”
Reese snorted. “So a typical Tuesday.”
“Yep. Hopefully that’s our worst call today.”
“Wishful thinking,” she said around another bite.
“Yeah. Probably.” He gave her a two-fingered salute and headed toward the squad room, Lucy falling back into step at his side.
The scent of fresh coffee hit him before he even made it through the door, layered over the paper-and-toner smell of old reports.
Jo and Kevin were already there, seated at their metal desks, flipping through paperwork. Jo had her hair scraped back, glasses perched on her nose, pen tapping in a steady rhythm. Kevin sat sideways in his chair, one foot braced on an open drawer, highlighter uncapped in his hand but doing nothing with it.
Major, the station’s black cat, lay stretched out on top of the filing cabinet, a sleek shadow with golden eyes, tail flicking lazily like he was grading their productivity.
Sam lifted the donut box again. “Breakfast.”
Jo arched an eyebrow without looking up. “It’s mid-morning.”
“Brunch,” Sam amended.
Kevin shrugged. “I’m not arguing.” He reached for the box and popped the lid.
Kevin held up a donut, already dusting the air. “You realize this stuff is gonna end up on evidence forms, right? ‘Unknown white powder’—lab’s gonna love that.”
Jo grabbed a donut and leaned back in her chair, casually tearing off a piece. Powdered sugar immediately dotted the front of her file. She brushed it off with the back of her hand, smearing it worse.
“Classy,” Kevin said.
“Says the man who color-codes his highlighters and never uses them,” she shot back.
Kevin glanced at the untouched line of pens on his desk and sniffed. “They’re aspirational.”