Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Sam stepped through the doors of the White Rock Police Station, rolling his shoulders as the familiar hum of the building settled around him. The faint smell of burned coffee clung to the air, as stubborn as the scuff marks on the worn hardwood floor.
Reese was at the reception desk, a fresh stack of paperwork in front of her, coffee steaming in her favorite mug, a white snowy owl with a starry sky painted on the front.
. Lucy trotted ahead, nails clicking on the floor, then paused to sniff the corner of the counter like it might be hiding treats.
Reese glanced up, smirking. “No fruitcake today, before you ask.”
Sam exhaled in mock relief, lifting the donut box. “Not yet, but Nettie threatened Wyatt with one, so be prepared. She made it sound like a promise.”
Reese shuddered theatrically. “I’m still brushing candied fruit out of my teeth from the last one.”
Lucy gave a hopeful little wag at the word fruit.
“Peace offering,” Sam said, nudging the Brewed Awakening donut box toward her. He’d stopped after dropping off Wyatt and gotten a half dozen. “Donuts instead.”
She slid the lid back and peered inside. “Powdered sugar. You’re feeling dangerous.”
“Living on the edge.”
She plucked one out, already dusting her fingers white. “You just made paperwork slightly less soul-crushing. I’ll try to remember that next time I route complaints to your inbox.”
“I regret this already,” he said, but his mouth twitched.
“How did it go at Nettie’s?” Reese asked, taking a bite.
“Same as usual. Henrietta terrorizing everyone.”
Reese snorted. “So a typical Tuesday.”
“Yep. Hopefully that’s our worst call today.”
“Wishful thinking,” she said around another bite.
“Yeah. Probably.” He gave her a two-fingered salute and headed toward the squad room, Lucy falling back into step at his side.
The scent of fresh coffee hit him before he even made it through the door, layered over the paper-and-toner smell of old reports.
Jo and Kevin were already there, seated at their metal desks, flipping through paperwork.
Jo had her hair scraped back, glasses perched on her nose, pen tapping in a steady rhythm.
Kevin sat sideways in his chair, one foot braced on an open drawer, highlighter uncapped in his hand but doing nothing with it.
Major, the station’s black cat, lay stretched out on top of the filing cabinet, a sleek shadow with golden eyes, tail flicking lazily like he was grading their productivity.
Sam lifted the donut box again. “Breakfast.”
Jo arched an eyebrow without looking up. “It’s mid-morning.”
“Brunch,” Sam amended.
Kevin shrugged. “I’m not arguing.” He reached for the box and popped the lid.
Kevin held up a donut, already dusting the air. “You realize this stuff is gonna end up on evidence forms, right? ‘Unknown white powder’—lab’s gonna love that.”
Jo grabbed a donut and leaned back in her chair, casually tearing off a piece. Powdered sugar immediately dotted the front of her file. She brushed it off with the back of her hand, smearing it worse.
“Classy,” Kevin said.
“Says the man who color-codes his highlighters and never uses them,” she shot back.
Kevin glanced at the untouched line of pens on his desk and sniffed. “They’re aspirational.”
Lucy, still seated beside Sam, perked up, ears pricked, nose working overtime. A quiet whine slipped out.
Sam shot her a look. “No.”
She huffed dramatically, easing into a flop, chin on her paws, eyes locked on the box like she was memorizing it for later.
Kevin smirked. “She’s plotting against you, man. You’re gonna wake up one day and find all your donuts missing and a suspicious pile of crumbs.”
Major yawned, then stretched so far one paw hung off the edge of the cabinet. His tail flicked in Lucy’s direction. She watched it, fascinated, but stayed put.
Then Jo spoke. “Where’s Wyatt?”
Sam exhaled through his nose. “Had to check in on his mom. Guess she’s sick.”
Kevin frowned. “Wait—Wyatt has a mom in town?”
Jo smirked. “He has to have a mom somewhere, Kevin.”
Kevin waved her off. “Yeah, but I thought maybe he was grown in a lab or something.”
Jo laughed. “That would explain the brooding.”
Kevin leaned back in his chair. “I just mean, the guy doesn’t talk about his personal life. Ever. He’s like a witness protection pamphlet with a badge.”
“Plays things close to the vest,” Jo agreed, softer now.
Sam leaned back too, stretching out his legs under the desk. His knee bumped a drawer and it rattled. “Maybe too close.”
Jo studied him over the rim of her glasses. “You thinking something’s up?”
Sam took a slow sip of coffee before answering. The mug warmed his hand; it didn’t do much for the knot between his shoulders.
He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions. And he sure as heck wasn’t the type to push when someone wasn’t ready to talk. He knew what it was to lock parts of yourself down and call it survival.
People didn’t spill their secrets until they were ready. Sam knew, he had plenty of his own.
But Wyatt’s behavior this morning—how he’d gone quiet, the way his hand hovered near his phone, the lie that didn’t sit right about his mom—none of it fit the steady, reliable deputy Sam knew.
He set his mug down, the ceramic clicking against the desk.
Jo reached into the box and snagged the last donut before Kevin could get there.
Kevin watched her finish it with something close to betrayal. “I was gonna eat that.”
“You hesitated,” Jo said, mouth half-full. “Hesitation kills.”
Kevin sighed and slumped back in his chair, pen spinning between his fingers. Across the room, Major rolled to his other side, then curled tighter, looking down at them like a judge overseeing his kingdom.
Lucy, sprawled near Jo’s desk, let out a soft sigh and rested her nose on her paws, eyes drifting half-closed.
The squad room settled into a low murmur—pages turning, keys clacking, the occasional ring of a phone out front. For a moment, everything was quiet in the way stations got quiet: full of things unsaid.
Sam glanced once at the empty chair where Wyatt usually sat. The absence felt louder than the noise.
Then Reese walked in.
Her usual smirk was gone. Her shoulders were tighter, chin set. The air in the room shifted before she even spoke.
“We’ve got a body.”
Sam was already moving, chair scraping back. “Where?”
Jo straightened, donut napkin crumpling in her hand. Kevin sat up, foot dropping from the drawer with a thud. Lucy lifted her head, ears forward, reading the tension in the room like a second language.
Major didn’t move, but his tail flicked again—faster this time—as if he understood the change in tone.
“Outskirts of town,” Reese continued. “Hiker found it. Not much else yet, but dispatch confirmed it’s not a rescue situation.”
The words landed heavy.
Jo was on her feet, grabbing her gear and her notebook in one smooth motion. “I’ll ride with you.”
Kevin shoved the last sip of coffee into his mouth, coughed once at the heat, then grabbed his jacket. “I’ll take the Vic, get there right behind you.”
Sam didn’t waste time with more questions. Details would come on scene, and he’d rather see it with his own eyes than get it secondhand over a radio.
For now, they moved.
Lucy was at his side in an instant, nails clicking on the floor, muscles alert, already tuned to his urgency.
Jo snatched her jacket off the back of her chair. “We taking the Tahoe?”
“Yeah.”
Reese stepped aside as they passed, handing Sam a slip of paper with the location scribbled on it. She gave him a look that said, Hope you weren’t planning on an easy day.
Yeah. No chance of that now.
The team split—Sam and Jo heading for the Tahoe, Kevin breaking off to the Crown Vic.
Major remained on his throne, watching them go with unreadable golden eyes, tail slowly swishing like a metronome.
Then they were out the door, boots hitting pavement, cool air biting at their faces, adrenaline settling in with familiar weight.
The station faded behind them as the sirens started to wail.
They had a body waiting.