Chapter 30
Thirty
The briefing room buzzed with that electric kind of noise that always came before something big. Microphones clicked into place. Tripods stood shoulder to shoulder. The podium light flattened every face it touched.
Then Erin stepped into it.
Jamie straightened without meaning to. Erin looked steady and sharp in a navy blazer that framed her shoulders perfectly, every movement crisp and controlled.
She adjusted the mic once, then lifted her gaze — not at Jamie, not at anyone in particular, but in that poised, all-encompassing way she used when she owned a room.
“Good afternoon,” Erin said, voice clear and even. “As many of you know, the Boston Police Department has launched a joint task force with the Massachusetts State Police to address the growing number of organized retail thefts occurring across the metro area.”
Jamie took notes, but more of her attention stayed fixed on Erin.
Seeing her like this — composed, unflinching, fully in her element — sent a warm, steady feeling through her chest. It shouldn’t have surprised her after last night, but it did.
The woman who had curled into her under soft sheets felt miles away from the polished calm standing behind the podium now.
Both versions were real. That was the part that caught Jamie off guard.
Erin continued outlining the partnership, the shared intel system, and the cross-agency support the task force would provide. When she paused for questions, Jamie lifted her hand almost on instinct.
Erin’s eyes found hers.
There was no flicker of recognition. No echo of the warmth from the night before. Just the cool, practiced professionalism Jamie had seen at every briefing before they’d ever crossed a personal line.
It made her pulse jump all the same.
“Jamie Garrison, WCVB. Can you confirm whether any search or arrest warrants have already been executed as part of this operation?”
The silence that followed felt like it was holding its breath.
For a heartbeat, Erin didn’t move. Then she gave the kind of calm, measured nod that usually preceded a careful answer.
“We’re conducting several court-authorized searches related to this investigation,” she said. “This is an active operation, and updates will be provided as appropriate.”
Perfect answer. She could’ve stopped there.
“But yes,” Erin added, “one warrant was executed just after six this morning.”
The effect was instant.
The room erupted. Voices overlapping, cameras pivoting, a dozen questions firing at once.
“Where?” “How many arrests?” “Was anyone injured?” A reporter from WBZ shouted to repeat it for the mic.
Another tried to push forward for a clearer angle.
Someone’s phone alarm went off mid-chaos, a shrill punctuation mark to the frenzy.
Jamie’s pulse spiked. Her stomach dropped. She’d expected a dodge, not confirmation. Not this.
Tilly, across the room, mouthed holy shit as they adjusted focus, catching Erin framed in the chaos. Jamie didn’t need to look to know the headlines were already forming: “BPD Confirms Early-Morning Warrant Execution in Retail Theft Crackdown.” She’d just set the lead story for the day.
Erin straightened, voice raised just enough to cut through the noise. “That’s all I can say right now. We’ll have a formal update later this week. Thank you.” She stepped back from the podium, already signaling to the moderator to wrap it up. A dozen more questions chased her, unanswered.
The noise dulled as she left the room, but the adrenaline didn’t.
Reporters clustered near the exit, calling editors, dictating leads, fighting for cell service.
Jamie stood in the middle of it all, notebook open, heart hammering in her throat.
The words one warrant executed just after six looped in her head like a broadcast line.
Tilly sidled up beside her, still rolling the camera. “You realize we just got gold, right?”
Jamie swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Tilly caught the edge in her voice, giving her a quick look. “You okay?”
“I think so.” She wasn’t. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”
Tilly nodded and headed for the door, already muttering about clean cuts and lead-ins. Jamie lingered just long enough to watch the last few reporters swarm the podium, then slipped out into the hallway.
The quiet hit her all at once. The hum of the vending machine, the distant echo of voices behind the closed door, it was all background. Erin stood a few steps away, leaning slightly against the wall, hands clasped in front of her like she was still holding herself together.
Jamie hesitated, then walked over. “You okay?”
Erin exhaled through her nose, the kind of breath you take when you’re trying not to show you need one. “That could’ve gone smoother.”
Jamie’s guilt twisted sharper. “I shouldn’t have asked that way.”
“You asked exactly how you should have.” Erin’s tone softened, but her eyes were still sharp. “You did your job.”
“It blew up,” Jamie said quietly. “Everyone’s going to run with it. That wasn’t my intent.”
“I know.” Erin pushed a hand through her hair, then let it fall. “I can handle the fallout. It’s part of the gig. I just wish I’d handled it better.”
“You were composed,” Jamie said. “Everyone saw that.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it was new information for every network in the room.” Erin’s mouth curved faintly, humor creeping in despite herself. “Congratulations on the scoop, by the way.”
Jamie’s throat tightened. “I didn’t want it at your expense.”
“I know you didn’t.” Erin looked at her, eyes softening in that way that made Jamie’s pulse trip. “You were doing what you’re supposed to. I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.”
Jamie nodded, but the knot in her chest didn’t ease. “Still feels messy.”
“Messy doesn’t mean wrong,” Erin said quietly. Her voice shifted, the professional edge melting into something warmer. “You’ve got integrity, Jamie. You asked a fair question. I just answered like someone who forgot where she was for half a second.”
Jamie’s lips curved, just barely. “You didn’t forget where you were. You just told the truth.”
Erin smiled, the kind that flickered between tired and fond. “Maybe.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt heavy with everything unspoken between them. Jamie thought about last night, about Erin’s voice in the dark saying you just trust me, okay? She wanted to reach out, but the hallway wasn’t built for that.
“About last night,” Erin said softly, almost like she’d read her mind. “I’m not going to pretend it was nothing. It meant a lot to me.”
Jamie’s breath caught. “It did to me too.” She swallowed. “I’ve been trying to compartmentalize it, but it keeps sneaking in.”
A faint, knowing smile pulled at Erin’s mouth. “We’ll figure out the balance.”
Jamie nodded. “Yeah.”
They stood there another beat before Erin straightened, smoothing the front of her blazer like she could pull the mask back on. “I should get back before someone decides I’ve vanished.”
“Right.” Jamie tucked her notebook under her arm. “I’m on the six and the ten tonight. I’ll keep the line clean. No speculation.”
Erin’s eyes met hers. “Thank you.”
“You’ve got my cell if you need to clarify anything.”
“I know,” Erin said, her voice dipping just enough to mean more than it should. “And Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“Good question.” Her lips quirked. “You made me work for it.”
Jamie’s laugh came out uneven. “Guess I did.”
Erin’s smile lingered for a breath before she turned toward the end of the hall. Jamie watched her go, feeling the weight of everything she couldn’t say yet pressing just under her ribs.
When she finally stepped back into the briefing room, Tilly was waiting by the door, cable coiled over one arm. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
Jamie shook her head. “Just saw the cost of a headline.”
Tilly raised an eyebrow. “Worth it?”
Jamie hesitated, then said softly, “Ask me after the six.”
They left together, the noise of the hallway swallowing them up.
The story would run. The clip would loop across every network.
Erin would weather the heat. But the thing that stuck with Jamie wasn’t the question or the quote.
It was the way Erin had looked at her when she said it meant a lot to me.
For once, Jamie didn’t try to write her feelings into neat lines. She just carried them out into the daylight and hoped they’d survive it.
* * *
The six o’clock broadcast went smoothly, all things considered.
Jamie delivered the story with the clip of Erin’s revelation queued perfectly behind her shoulder graphic.
She kept her voice neutral, her face composed, even as every word felt like it was scraping against her ribs.
When the segment wrapped, Dennis gave her a nod of approval.
Harper shot her a thumbs-up from across the newsroom.
She smiled and nodded back, but the knot in her stomach didn’t budge.
By the time she finished the ten o’clock, the clip had already been picked up by three other stations and was making the rounds on social media.
The headline she’d set in motion had taken on a life of its own.
Jamie changed out of her on-air blazer in the bathroom, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and texted Erin before she could second-guess it.
Story ran clean. Hope you’re holding up okay.
She stared at the screen, waiting for the three dots to appear. They didn’t.
The drive home felt longer than usual. Every red light stretched, every block empty and quiet in that specific October way that made the city feel like it was holding its breath.
Jamie parked in her building’s small lot, climbed the stairs to her apartment, and dropped her bag by the door with more force than necessary.
The silence pressed in immediately. No Leo padding across the floor to greet her. No warm voice calling from the other room. Just her own breathing and the hum of the refrigerator kicking on in the kitchen.
She checked her phone again. Still nothing.