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“Good morning,” she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face as she reached for the bag. Kevin had made sure to include a few of her favorite jelly donuts. Kevin’s worry ebbed slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in genuine relief. Jo wasn’t looking at him differently, and he took that to mean that Bridget hadn’t said anything.
They pulled chairs to the center of the room and passed the donut bag around, the ritual of morning coffee knitting the team closer together. Sam emerged from his office, and Kevin held his breath, but when Sam clapped him on the back and said that it was good to see things getting back to normal, Kevin knew he was in the clear.
The banter was casual, familiar, and then easily segued into the case. Jo hadn’t made much progress, but Wyatt had collected April’s things from the motel and was trying to get into her computer and dig around. Settling into the rhythm of the morning briefing, Kevin found his footing in the flow of information. “The gun… Why wipe it clean if it wasn’t the murder weapon?” His brow furrowed in thought.
“Distraction, maybe, or just habit,” Sam suggested, his eyes narrowing on a map pinned with various markers. “It did kill the owl. Maybe April’s killer had the gun in his hand and then wiped it clean.”
“But then why hit April with a log if he had the gun?” Wyatt asked.
Sam shrugged and bit into a chocolate glazed.
Kevin nodded, his thoughts already pacing ahead. “And the bandana, found by Lucy away from the crime scene in the woods. Could it be a marker of some sort?”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the desktop. “Or maybe even not related. You know how people party in those woods and drop all kinds of trash.”
Sam nodded. “True, but not usually near the owl sanctuary. The big party spot is on the other side of the forest.”
The dialogue continued, the team tossing ideas back and forth until Kevin’s voice cut through, carrying a thread of fresh perspective. “Why the owl sanctuary? The time of death puts them there in the middle of the night. Kind of a strange time to be there.”
The room stilled, the significance of the location hanging between them like a clue begging to be deciphered.
Jo’s expression grew contemplative, her mind visibly turning over the pieces. “That’s a good point. But it’s secluded, remote. A good place to kill someone and not be seen, if you know about it. You can get in and out through the construction site, and no one would notice.”
“But it is also a place that is visited early in the morning, so the killer must have known that would happen,” Sam added.
“Maybe it’s personal?” Wyatt proposed. “Or symbolic?”
Kevin watched as Jo scribbled a note, her eyes alight with the thrill of the chase.
The discussion of the crime scene morphed into strategy, the team’s collective focus narrowing. And there, in the midst of maps and markers, donuts, and coffee, Kevin’s place on the team felt reaffirmed.
Sam stood and chugged down the rest of his coffee. “Jo and I are heading out to Mel’s paint store. It’s a long shot, but maybe he’ll recall someone buying those specific colors splattered on the bandana.”
Kevin felt a pang of envy. He willed himself to have patience. He’d get out in the field in due time.
Reese breezed into the room, the energy around her shifting like the sudden gust of a new weather front. She snagged a donut from the box with a grin. “Thanks for the breakfast, Kev.”
The phone’s shrill ring cut through the early morning calm. Reese moved to answer it, the informal dispatcher and multitasker of the precinct. “White Rock PD.”
“Yes, Mrs. Holscher,” Reese said into the phone, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Your rose bush, you say?”
The room was silent except for the muffled voice on the other end of the line, punctuated by Reese’s responses.
“I don’t think we have a law against that, Mrs. Holscher,” Reese continued, her smirk blooming into a restrained smile. The rest of them couldn’t help but mirror the expression.
“Monetary damages? You’ll have to talk to a lawyer for that,” she added, scribbling something on a notepad. The pen paused momentarily. “Yes. Now calm down, Rita.”
She glanced up at Sam and Jo, her eyes twinkling with the unspoken acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation.
“I’ll see if I can get someone to come out,” she promised before hanging up.
Reese let out a chuckle. “Rita’s on the war path. She says Nettie’s chicken pecked up her rose bush. She wants someone to go out.”
Sam shook his head, the barest hint of amusement in his gaze as he turned from Reese to the rest of the team. Jo’s lips quirked in a knowing smirk, while Wyatt’s fingers flew over his keyboard, the steady clatter a backdrop to the quieter drama.
Wyatt glanced up, his eyes squinting from the strain of screens and secrets. “I can swing by Rita’s after this,” he offered, though everyone knew his expertise was too vital to be spared for a neighborhood tiff.
“Nah, stick to cracking those passwords,” Sam countered, his voice low and firm. “We need into April’s digital life ASAP.”
