“It must be hard to work on a case when you knew the victim.” Grandpa loaded the toast and eggs onto two plates and carried them to the table. Snoozer followed, his bulgy eyes sticking with the plates.
Only at the Dane house was homicide a topic of breakfast conversation.
“I was lucky.” He tucked his napkin into the front of his shirt. “I worked in a big city department. I rarely ran into a homicide that wasn’t a stranger. Maybe I’d have to investigate the death of an informant or someone I’d arrested previously, but never a friend. If your former relationship with Missy prevents you from doing your job, there’s no shame in stepping away from the case.”
“You’re right, of course.” Stella sampled her breakfast. Heavy on the butter as usual but tasty. “But I get this feeling that something is off with the case, and I don’t know if I have enough experience to trust my gut.”
“Are you investigating all possible leads?”
“I am. I’m waiting for forensics and a toxicology report. Until then, I’m digging into her life.”
Grandpa dug into his breakfast. “That’s all you can do. Keep picking away. Everyone has secrets.”
“I also caught a missing persons case yesterday that I have a very bad feeling about. I have no evidence that the cases are linked, but something tells me they are. Is that ridiculous?”
“Not at all.” Grandpa put his hand over hers. “You might not have a lot of experience yet, but that doesn’t mean you should ignore your gut. Good instincts are genetic. You come from a long line of crack detectives.” He grinned.
“I do.” Stella smiled. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” He salted his eggs, stopping with a frown when she caught his eye. “My blood pressure is fine.”
“Because you take a pill.”
Sighing, he set the saltshaker aside. “Do you think you can borrow a nighttime surveillance camera from the department?”
Stella laughed. “No. I don’t think I could get that requisition signed.”
“Damn.” He buttered a piece of toast, tore off a corner, and flipped it to the dog. Snoozer watched the food hit the floor, then shuffled over to eat it. “I might have to get creative.”
Stella finished her eggs and transferred her coffee into a travel mug. “I have to go. Thanks for the breakfast and the advice.”
“I love you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Be careful.”
Grandpa carried the empty dishes to the sink. The dog took his cue that no more food was available and trotted to his bed in the corner. He rested his head on his paws, and his eyelids drooped instantly.
“You, too.” She grabbed her briefcase. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Grandpa snorted. “I make no promises.”
Stella left the house bolstered by food and love. The roads were dark and empty on her way to the station. The sky was barely gray when she parked in front of the municipal building. With blue clapboard and red shutters, the structure was quaint-pretty on the outside, industrial-ugly on the inside. The police station occupied the entire first floor. Upstairs housed the various township tax and zoning offices.
In her cubicle, she draped her blazer over her chair, sat, and booted up the computer. She typed up her reports from the day before as the station bustled through shift change. Chief Horner was in his office by seven, and the administrative staff started at eight.
She’d barely finished her reports when Brody came in. All typical cop. Boring tie. Nondescript suit. Sharp brown eyes.
“I have something to tell you,” Stella said.
“It’ll have to wait. The chief wants to see us in his office,” he gestured to the door at the other end of the room.
Stella hurried to catch up. “I’ve been here for hours. He didn’t say anything to me.”
“He called me at home an hour ago.” Brody frowned as if the chief’s personal summons had been an unwelcome intrusion.
“How is Hannah?” Stella asked.
“It was a rough night. She didn’t sleep. Between losing her father and worrying about Mac . . .”
Obviously Brody hadn’t slept either.
“Please tell her . . .” She couldn’t articulate her empathy. “I lost my dad when I was fifteen. Tell her I’m sorry.”
“I will. Thanks.” Brody knocked on the chief’s door.
“Come in.” The command reverberated through the wood.
Brody opened the door and they went inside. Chief Dave Horner sat behind his tidy desk. As usual, his dark blue uniform was heavy on the starch. His hair was perfect.
Staring at Stella, the chief jabbed a finger on a closed file on his desk. “You were due at the range for pistol qualification yesterday.”