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ROWAN
“Detective Velky.” The officer nods as I approach. I recognize him as Nick Anderson, a rookie cop. He hands me the crime-scene sign-in log and makes the introduction. “Mr. Hoyt, this is Detective Rowan Velky.”
The man inhales deeply, and turns to me. Relieved, I think, and also shaken. Sun-spotted, gnarled hands tremble at his side. His eyes, however, are blue as water and crystal clear.
I sign the log and hand the clipboard back to Anderson, my focus locked on the witness. “Mr. Hoyt, can I get you some water? Anything?”
“No. I’m fine,” His voice carries the wear and tear of his age.
“I was just taking his statement,” Anderson explains.
I nod. “Mr. Hoyt, I’m going to chat with my partner inside for a moment. Do you mind if I speak with you after Officer Anderson finishes his report?”
“Of course. Please.”
“Thank you.”
I nod to Anderson—continue.
Muffled voices float from open windows as I step to the front door. After slipping a pair of blue booties over my sneakers and black nitrile gloves over my hands, I enter the home.
My partner, Detective Kellan Palmer, nods at me from the far end of the foyer. He is speaking with another officer, this one I don’t recognize. I take a second to look around.
Despite the castle-like exterior of the home, the inside is surprisingly modern. Everything is white. Gleaming black and white checkered floors stretch to a double grand staircase that leads to a catwalk that extends the length of the foyer. Above my head, another massive chandelier. To my left is a large sitting room—white couches, white chairs, white drapery. To my right, sweeping windows showcase a garden outside, illuminated by an outdoor security light.
Kellan dismisses the officer and meets me under the chandelier.
“Nice place,” I mutter.
“You should see the pool out back. It’s got a grotto.”
“Well hold onto your swim-shorts for a bit.”
Ignoring the quip, Kellan frowns, looking me over in the way he does every time he sees me. Assessing, assessing. Judging.
“I was just coming outside to call you,” he says.
“Why?”
“You were taking an unusually long time to get here and you didn’t respond to my last text.”
“I must’ve missed it,” I say, my focus sweeping the interior of the home.
“Listen, I know it’s your day off. I almost didn’t call, but I knew you would’ve wanted me to. But I can handle this if you need to go. I’ve got your back, Rowan, you know that.”
My brow cocks. “I’ve got my own back, thank you. But, no, I’m glad you called. I’m good.”
A beat passes between us.
“You okay?” He presses.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You look… stressed or something.”
“Thanks a lot.” You, on the other hand, look as handsome as always.
A former marine, Detective Kellan Palmer joined BCPD three years earlier, after leaving the military. His unwavering commitment to the job got him promoted to detective in record-time, becoming the second-ever in Blackbird Cove. Me being the first. Kellan has been assigned as my partner, to shadow me while I train him until he’s ready to be on his own. If I’m being honest, I haven’t minded having Kellan on my heels for the last few months. The man is pure eye candy—tall, handsome, and built like an ox. He carries an air of competence that makes women melt. I know this because when he first moved to town, you couldn’t go anywhere without hearing women swooning over him. As if that weren’t enough, his reputation precedes him. While in the military, Kellan was awarded the Navy Cross, one of the most distinguished decorations the military offers. His work ethic is second to none. He is always the first on the job and the last to leave. Also, he’s funny. Kellan Palmer would be perfect, I muse, if not for the fact that he isn’t a dog person.
