Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The glow of the television cast flickering light across Sam’s office as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching Marnie Wilson’s live press conference. Jo sat on the edge of the desk, arms resting on her knees, her badge clipped to her belt—a silent reminder of her reinstatement.
Marnie stood at a lectern, the White Rock mayoral seal prominently displayed behind her. Her face was pale, drawn tight with the weight of the decision she was being forced to make. She gripped the edges of the podium as though it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“After careful consideration, I have decided to withdraw from the mayoral race,” Marnie announced, her voice steady but brittle. “This has not been an easy decision, but due to personal family matters, I must focus my attention where it’s needed most.”
Jo snorted softly. “Family matters. Sure, that’s the reason.”
Sam’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “Her people wrote that for her. Probably took them hours to get the tone just right.”
Marnie continued, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I want to thank my supporters for their unwavering dedication and passion. White Rock deserves a leader who can give one hundred percent to this community, and at this time, I cannot do that.”
“She’s trying to salvage her reputation,” Jo said, shaking her head. “But let’s face it—her career’s over.”
Sam finally glanced at Jo. “That’s the deal. She bows out gracefully and no charges are pressed. It’s a win for her people.”
“And a win for the rest of us too,” Jo muttered. “Jamison might not be the best mayor, but at least he’s not shady like Marnie.”
On the screen, Marnie stepped back from the podium as reporters shouted questions, microphones thrust toward her. She didn’t answer a single one, disappearing behind the curtain with the efficiency of someone who’d practiced the exit a dozen times.
Sam muted the television and rubbed his jaw. “She got off easy. But you saw her back there—she’s finished. She won’t recover from this.”
Jo stood, pacing the small office. “And Beryl? She just walks away too?”
“She was smart. Didn’t leave any evidence pointing to her.” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “At least I’ve got leverage now. That photo in the box? It levels the playing field. Beryl won’t risk using what she has on me, not if she knows I can hit back just as hard.”
Jo stopped pacing, her expression hard. “It’s not enough. She’s still in the game. Still pulling strings.”
“Yeah,” Sam admitted. “But for now, she’s neutralized. That’s the best we can hope for.”
Jo didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she turned toward the door. “I’m heading out. Got a meeting with Garvin’s kids. Signing the Purchase and Sale for the cottage tonight.”
Sam nodded. “Good luck.”
She offered him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Sam. For everything.”
As Jo left, Sam turned the volume back up, the muted hum of reporters filling the room. He leaned back, staring at the screen but not really seeing it.
Marnie was out of the picture. Beryl was temporarily contained. But Griggs’s silence haunted him. Someone powerful and ruthless was still out there, pulling strings, and Sam didn’t like how close they’d come to losing control of the game.
The warm glow of the fireplace flickered across the room, painting the walls of Jo’s cottage with a golden light. Outside, the snow whispered against the windows, a muffled backdrop to the low hum of voices and laughter inside.
Jo stood near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, her eyes sweeping the room.
Kevin was setting snacks on the coffee table.
Beside him, Bridget was laying out plates, her movements practiced and efficient.
Every now and then, their shoulders would brush, and Kevin would glance at her, quickly looking away before Bridget noticed.
Except she noticed. Jo could see it in the small, satisfied smile Bridget gave when she thought no one was looking.
In the corner, Mick was nursing a whiskey, one arm draped casually over the back of his chair. Lucy had claimed the rug in front of the fireplace, her head resting on her paws but her eyes flicking to each person in turn, her ears perking up at the occasional clink of glass or burst of laughter.
Wyatt was slouched in the armchair by the window, one boot resting on his knee, spinning a bottle cap between his fingers like he didn’t have a care in the world. Except when he was checking his phone, which he seemed to be doing quite regularly.
Sam leaned against the mantel, his gaze flickering over the room, but Jo could tell he wasn’t entirely at ease. He never was.
This was it, Jo thought. Her people. Her home.
Jo rose to her feet, lifting her glass in one hand and motioning for quiet with the other.
The room settled, the hum of conversation fading as everyone turned their attention to her.
She glanced around, meeting the eyes of each person present, her gaze lingering a little longer on Sam then Mick before finally settling on Bridget.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” Jo began, her voice steady but warm. “Thank you for helping me get my badge back and for finding Garvin’s killer.”
She paused, letting the words hang in the air. It wasn’t just gratitude she felt but relief—a deep, unspoken weight finally lifted from her shoulders.
“Griggs may not be talking,” she continued, her tone hardening slightly, “but we’ve got the murder weapon. That’s evidence enough to close the book on this part of the case. And none of it would’ve happened if it weren’t for all of you.”
Her gaze shifted to Mick, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “And Mick, I owe you a special thank-you. You stepped in when I was suspended and made sure I didn’t lose my mind sitting on the sidelines.”
Mick leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his face. “You’re welcome, Harris. But in case you didn’t notice, I didn’t do much helping. You’re so damn stubborn, you didn’t let me.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, breaking the tension. Jo rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the grin that followed. “Seriously, though. Thank you—all of you. For having my back. For being here. It means everything to me.”
Bridget disappeared into the kitchen, Kevin trailing after her. Jo watched them for a moment then wandered over to the fireplace where Sam was still leaning, his expression unreadable.
“Not bad for a little place in the woods,” he said, his voice low.
“It’s perfect,” Jo replied, her gaze following Kevin and Bridget as they worked together in the kitchen.
Sam followed her gaze, one eyebrow quirking up. “Think those two are finally going to figure it out?”
Jo smirked. “Who knows.”
The sound of a knock on the door pulled Jo’s attention.
“I’ll get it,” she said, moving toward the door.
Before she reached it, the door creaked open, and Reese stepped inside, her cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Sorry I’m late,” Reese said, brushing snow off her coat. “I got caught up at the station—”
Before she could finish, a blur of orange darted past her legs.
“Pickles!” Jo exclaimed as the cat bolted into the room, tail high and confident.
The entire room turned to watch as Pickles leaped onto the couch, circling once before curling into a ball like he owned the place.
“Well,” Sam said, his voice dry, “looks like someone’s finally decided to come inside.”
Jo shook her head, a laugh bubbling out of her. “Took him long enough.”
Bridget appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, her expression softening as she watched Pickles settle in. “Guess he knows this place can really be his.”
As the laughter and conversation picked up again, Jo stood by the door, taking it all in. This wasn’t just a house anymore. It was a home. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she knew she was exactly where she was meant to be.
Lucy padded over and nudged her hand, and Jo scratched behind her ears. “We did it, girl,” she said softly. “We finally did it.”
Wyatt leaned back in his chair, nursing his beer and letting the warmth of the room settle over him.
The soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter reminded him of something he hadn’t felt in a long time: belonging.
He glanced around the cozy space—Jo’s smile as she stroked that oddball cat, Kevin and Bridget standing a little closer than necessary by the kitchen, Sam and Reese swapping dry remarks by the fire.
They’d included him, and it felt good. Because of his past, always moving, it was hard for him to make friends, and he wasn’t used to being included.
Wyatt still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up here, but he wasn’t about to ruin the moment by overthinking it.
His phone buzzed on the cushion beside him. He hesitated. Checking it felt rude, like breaking the unspoken rule of the night—no work, no worries, just this fragile sense of normalcy. But it could be important.
The screen lit up with a message from his mom.
I’m okay. Nothing to worry about.
Relief washed over him. She’d been through enough. Her being okay was all that mattered. He was about to set the phone down when the second message came through.
Keep your eyes open. Your father might have found you.
His stomach dropped.
Wyatt stared at the screen, the words blurring slightly as the firelight flickered against it. He wanted to dismiss it, convince himself she was just being overly cautious. But his mom didn’t send messages like that lightly.
He glanced up, forcing himself to look at the others.
Kevin was laughing at something Bridget said, his face lighting up in a way Wyatt rarely saw.
Jo looked at peace for the first time in months, the tension finally easing from her shoulders.
Sam was sitting in the chair next to the fireplace, scratching Lucy behind the ears, his expression thoughtful but calm.
Wyatt wanted to stay in this moment, to let it wrap around him like a safety net. But the message on his phone whispered to him, pulling at the edges of his thoughts.
His father. The man they’d escaped all those years ago. If he’d found them...
Wyatt’s jaw tightened, and he shoved the phone into his pocket, willing the bad feeling away. He didn’t want to ruin this. Not now.
But as he watched the firelight play against the walls of Jo’s cottage, he couldn’t shake the thought that something in his life was about to change—and not for the better.
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