Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Bridget set a steaming dish of turkey meatloaf on Kevin’s kitchen table. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced.
“Smells incredible,” Kevin said, pulling out a chair for her. “Seriously, you didn’t have to do all this.”
Bridget shrugged, brushing off the compliment. “You’ve been working hard, and I like cooking. Besides, you could use a good meal.”
They ate in companionable silence until Bridget couldn’t hold back her curiosity. “So,” she asked casually, “any leads on the case?”
Kevin paused mid-bite, setting down his fork. “Nothing concrete, but we found the car I mentioned. Belongs to a land surveyor. Turns out Garvin was looking into the property where Jo’s cottage is.”
Bridget’s brow furrowed. “Why would he be looking at that land?”
“Good question.” Kevin took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be something about the land’s history, maybe an ownership issue. We’re still digging.”
“Jo’s been doing some digging of her own,” Bridget said, smiling. “She even called Mick for backup.”
Kevin chuckled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those two get to the bottom of it before we do.”
Bridget smiled, pride flickering in her chest. Jo had always been the tough one, always looking out for everyone else. And even with her career on the line, here she was, still working to get to the truth.
“So,” she ventured, “about that note. The one about the thumb drive. Any leads on who left it?”
Kevin’s face darkened. He set down his fork, sighing. “No idea who left it or why.”
Bridget reached across the table, resting a hand on his. “You’ll figure it out.”
Kevin nodded, his eyes lingering on hers for a beat. “I just can’t shake the feeling that the thumb drive’s bigger than we thought. What if the bodies at the Webster property had nothing to do with the thumb drive?”
“Or,” Bridget said, leaning back, “what if we got the coordinates wrong?”
Kevin’s eyes sparked. “Maybe. Or maybe they weren’t coordinates at all. We just assumed because that’s where we found the bodies.”
They chewed over possibilities as they ate, lost in the thrill of the mystery until the plates were cleared. Bridget rinsed the dishes while Kevin dried them, the rhythm between them easy, like they’d been doing this for years.
Kevin broke the silence. “If those numbers aren’t coordinates, they could be anything. A code, maybe?”
Bridget handed him a plate, considering. “Or dates? Maybe reference numbers?”
He nodded, intrigued. “All good options. What’s our next move to figure it out?”
“Make a list of possibilities,” Bridget suggested. “We check them off, see if they tie to that old narcotics case.”
A grin broke across Kevin’s face. “That’s brilliant. Start with the most obvious, work our way down.”
Bridget felt a surge of excitement. It felt good to be useful, to be part of something.
When the dishes were done, Kevin tossed the towel aside. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter, “I appreciate the help. It’s… nice having someone to work this through with.”
Bridget’s smile softened. “Glad to help. And it’s good to feel… like I’m doing something real.”
For a moment, it seemed like he might say more. But he cleared his throat, turning to grab a notebook from the counter. “So, let’s get started on that list.”