Page 178 of Taken Away

“Everybody here?” Bennett asked.

He didn’t bother with a speech. He took a steadying breath, looked around the table, and said, “CSI’s done. Burke’s people cleared the building this morning. As of ten o’clock, the winery and the Victorian are officially released back to us.”

A low ripple of sound moved through the room—relief, tension, something in between.

“Does that mean we’re… done?” one of the cellar hands asked quietly. “With the investigation, I mean.”

“No,” Bennett said. “It just means they’re done combing through the floors looking for fibers and prints.” His mouth tightened. “Burke’s still treating this as an active homicide. That hasn’t changed.”

The room went still.

Aubrey felt every eye flick toward her and away again. She kept her spine straight, fingers wrapped around her coffee cup, the heat grounding her.

“Look,” Bennett said. “I know the last week’s been hell. You’ve all been trying to run a winery with deputies underfoot and yellow tape on the boss’s house. You’ve done it anyway. I’m proud of you. Mabel would’ve said you were whining too much and told you to get back to work⁠—“

A few strained laughs broke out.

”—but she would’ve been proud too.”

Savannah blinked quickly down at her tablet. Walter nodded once, eyes shining behind his glasses.

“So here’s where we are.” Bennett’s voice sharpened slightly, shifting into command. “The sheriff’s department has what they need from us for now. They’ve interviewed most of you at least once, some of you twice. If Burke or one of his deputies needs to talk to you again, answer them. Be honest. But outside of that, we go back to doing our jobs. We harvest on time. We bottle on schedule. We treat guests like they can’t get this anywhere else.”

He looked slowly around the table. “We do what Mabel built this place to do.”

Aubrey’s throat tightened.

“So.” He clapped his hands once, the sound sharp in the close room. “Operational updates. Lockwood?”

Lockwood pushed off the wall and came to the front, flipping open his notebook.

“Field’s steady,” he said. “North Ridge took that last storm pretty hard, but we’ve staked the worst of the slope and reinforced the terraces. Sulfur’s on schedule. Cover crop’s holding.” He glanced at Aubrey. “We’re on track for the first harvest block to come in three weeks early if this heat holds.”

“Which block?” Aubrey asked.

“Merlot on the lower east slope.” Lockwood smiled. “What Bennett calls ‘the one that’ll kill me in my sleep if I don’t keep an eye on it.’”

A few chuckles rolled around the table.

“Good,” Bennett said. “Keep at it. I want the lab pulls on that block by Friday.”

“Already queued,” Lockwood said. He stepped back.

“Zack?”

Zack swung his chair forward, elbows resting on the table. “Tank room’s clean. Filters are back online. We’ve got two small leaks on lines seven and nine—Eli’s already on it. New French oak shipment came in yesterday.” He glanced at Walter. “And yes, I signed the packing slip this time.”

Walter sniffed. “Miracles do happen.”

The room eased a little more. Normal complaints. Normal teasing. It felt like oxygen.

“Savannah?” Bennett asked.

“Tasting room’s booked out for the next three weekends,” Savannah said, scrolling her tablet. “We had two cancellations after the homicide hit the news, but they rebooked once Burke made a statement about extra patrols.

Savannah cleared her throat. “Allocations dinner for Mercer and the other distributors went off without a hitch. Everyone wants more Tree of Life than we can give them, as usual. I told them if they wanted to complain about scarce supply they could take it up with the vines.”

“Good,” Bennett said.