Chapter 3
Cory trudged through the light snow from Tailwinds to the police station, his jaw still tight from that infuriating encounter with Izzy Reyes.
The woman was protecting a vigilante, mocking the very law he'd sworn to uphold.
Yet he couldn't shake the image of her hidden smirk, the fire in those dark eyes when she'd defended kids against drug dealers.
He'd seen her at church occasionally—not every Sunday, but often enough.
Always sitting between her mother and daughter, Chantal's small hand tucked into hers.
The little girl was clearly the light of Izzy's life, the way her whole face softened when she looked at her daughter.
And Luz, still navigating with that walker, never lacked for Izzy's steady arm or patient assistance.
The woman protected those she loved with an intensity and loyalty he couldn't help but admire.
Beautiful, fierce, strong—but vulnerable too, in those unguarded moments when she didn't know anyone was watching.
Like when Chantal had dropped her Sunday school craft last week, and Izzy had knelt to help her gather the pieces, whispering something that made the little girl giggle instead of cry.
She was a spitfire, no question. And fire burned, he reminded himself. Best to keep his distance.
Focus, Fraser.
He mentally cataloged Axel's mockery from the plane—that slow, deliberate wave designed to taunt him. He'd add it to the file, one more piece of evidence that Knight Tactical's B-team thought themselves above the law.
His radio crackled against his hip. "Chief, you there?"
Graceline's voice carried that particular tone that meant she was trying not to laugh. Twenty years as his dispatcher, and she could convey entire conversations in her inflection alone.
"I'm here. Don't tell me—Jenks is already there."
"With his lawyer."
"Also," Graceline continued, her tone shifting to deadpan, "got a real emergency for you."
"What kind of emergency?"
"Eugene Holcomb found a watch. A really, really expensive watch. He's convinced he'll be arrested for grand theft if he doesn't file a report immediately."
Cory pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Eugene would panic over found property. The man once called 911 because he accidentally received someone else's mail.
"Seriously?"
"He's used the words 'citizen's duty' four times. And he may have mentioned a reward." In the background, he heard Eugene's reedy voice: "Is that the Chief? Tell him I have references."
The drug dealer and his lawyer could wait. Might do Jenks good to cool his heels for a while, remember that Hope Landing wasn't Sacramento where he could snap his fingers and get immediate service.
"Tell Jenks and his lawyer I'll be there when I'm there. Where did Eugene find this watch?"
"Near the maintenance hangars at the airport. Says it's engraved and everything."
Something about that location pinged Cory's instincts, though he couldn't say why. The airport had been seeing a lot of activity lately—too much activity.
"I'll swing by and take his statement."
Graceline chuckled. "Big city crime wave, Chief. Lost jewelry."
Cory found Eugene Holcomb waiting by the airport's public entrance, practically vibrating with nervous energy. The retired accountant clutched a Ziploc bag like it contained nuclear material, his thin frame bundled in a parka two sizes too big.
"Chief Fraser. Thank goodness." Eugene's words tumbled out in a rush. "I didn't touch it—well, I touched it to pick it up, but then I put it in this bag—is that tampering with evidence? I watch those crime shows, and they're always talking about chain of custody—"
"You did fine, Eugene." Cory fought to keep his expression neutral. "Show me what you found."
Eugene produced the bag with the reverence of someone handling the Holy Grail. Inside lay a Breitling Navitimer, its steel catching the winter light. Easily eight grand, maybe more.
"See? Engraved." Eugene pointed through the plastic. "'J.S.' with a date. Someone's missing this. Someone important."
Cory dutifully photographed the watch, the location where Eugene found it, and took down the man's rambling statement that included unnecessary details about his morning walk, the weather conditions, and his late wife's opinion on expensive jewelry.
"So..." Eugene shifted from foot to foot. "Is there like a finder's fee? Not that I'm asking. But if someone offers..."
"We'll post it on the department's found property page, Eugene."
"What if they can't prove it's theirs? How long before—"
"Ninety days. Then you can claim it if no one comes forward."
Eugene's eyes lit up before he caught himself. "Not that I would. Unless nobody claims it. Then it would be wasteful not to..."
Cory kept his sigh internal. "I'll file the report, Eugene. You did the right thing turning it in."
"Of course. Civic duty. Though if they wanted to express gratitude in a monetary fashion—"
"Eugene."
"Right. Yes. Well. I'll just... be going then."
Cory watched the older man scurry away before returning to his cruiser. He sealed the watch in an evidence bag and made his notes. J.S. Could be anyone—John Sullivan, Joe Smith, James Sanderson. Probably some investment banker who flew his Cessna on weekends and liked flashy accessories.
Still, finding it near the maintenance hangars nagged at him. That area saw restricted access, mostly just mechanics and aircraft owners. He made a note to check if any pilots had reported it missing.
As he drove back to the station, his thoughts drifted inevitably back to Izzy Reyes. The way she'd stood up to him, protecting her team even though she had to know Axel was guilty. That fierce loyalty, misguided as it was, stirred something in him he didn't want to examine too closely.
He told himself the tightness in his chest was just frustration. Knight Tactical had become a huge part of this small community really quickly, volunteering at church and community functions with regularity.
Until Axel Reinhardt started going rogue. Inside, Cory sympathized, but as police chief, he’d meant what he told Izzy. If he caught the guy, there’d be consequences. Ugly ones.
She had to understand that.
And he had to stop caring. But beneath Izzy's bravado, he'd seen exhaustion. Single mom, a demanding career, raising a little girl while her team deployed to Alaska...
Stop it.
His radio crackled. "Chief, Jenks' lawyer is threatening to file a complaint about the delay."
"On my way, Graceline."
He pulled into the station's lot, but his mind kept circling back to two questions: Why could Spike Jenks suddenly afford a Sacramento lawyer? And why couldn't he stop thinking about Izzy’s defiant eyes?
He locked the watch in evidence, filled out the chain of custody paperwork with his usual precision. At least Eugene would sleep tonight knowing he wasn't harboring stolen property. The thought almost made him smile.
Cory straightened his uniform and headed for the interview room. Time to deal with actual criminals instead of lost watches and beautiful women who protected vigilantes. Even if those women had the kind of courage he secretly admired.
Even if they were magnificent when angry.