She held eye contact with the camera.
“The district attorney’s office declined to comment on what evidence prompted the change. We’ll continue to follow developments as they become available.”
A beat.
“Reporting in Medford, Savannah Wells, WDTV.”
She held still a second longer than necessary.
Tilly let the shot breathe, then lowered the camera. “That’s good.”
Savannah nodded once. Didn’t smile.
They grabbed a few more shots for safety. Signage. Doors. A patrol car idling across the street. Savannah stayed focused, efficient, already pulling away emotionally as soon as the work was done.
Back in the car, she opened her notebook, then closed it without writing anything. Her pen tapped once against the cover. Then stilled.
She never fidgeted. Never.
Tilly hated that they noticed.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Savannah said quietly.
Tilly stared at the windshield. “I didn’t ask for anything.”
“That’s the problem.” Her voice shook despite her effort. “You act like nothing happened. Like I imagined it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Tilly opened their mouth. Closed it. “Savannah.”
“Just get us back.”
They drove the rest of the way in silence.
Inside the station, Savannah was already at her desk, head down, typing. She didn’t look up.
Henry called across the room. “Franklin, send me your footage.”
“Yeah,” Tilly said.
Savannah didn’t flinch at their voice.
Tilly gathered the camera and headed for the gear room, legs unsteady from something that had nothing to do with the cold. They set the camera down on the counter and leaned their weight against it, breath slow, controlled.
There was work to do.
Whatever sat between them would have to wait.
Twenty Four
Savannah told herself she was fine.
She repeated it every time she inhaled.
Every time she typed.
