Page 135

“Eve.” Rissa’s voice softens. “I’m not dying, you know. Chillicothe is only an hour away.”

“I know.” I pick at my cinnamon roll, suddenly not very hungry. “It’s just … things won’t be the same without you here.”

“No, they won’t,” she agrees. “But maybe that’s not entirely bad. Change can be good sometimes.”

I think about how much has changed in my own life recently—marrying Zeke, moving into the mansion, becoming a family with Leo, straddling the line between the law and crime. None of it was planned, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything now.

“When did you get so wise?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“Please, I’ve always been the brains of this operation.” She grins, but there’s a sadness in her eyes that matches my own. “You’re just the pretty face.”

“Rude.” I flick a piece of icing at her, and she laughs.

We fall into comfortable silence, eating our breakfast and watching the precinct come alive around us. Officers drift in and out, some stopping to wish Rissa well. She accepts their goodbyes with grace, but it’s obvious how each one affects her.

“Remember that first case we worked together?” she asks suddenly. “The Thompson domestic?”

I groan. “God, what a mess that was. Didn’t the husband try to escape through the bathroom window?”

“And got stuck halfway through.” Rissa chuckles. “We had to call the fire department to get him out.”

“While his wife just stood there taking pictures for Facebook.”

“Good times.” She shakes her head, smile fading slightly. “We’ve had a lot of those, haven’t we?”

“Yeah,” I say softly. “We have.”

More memories flood in—late-night stakeouts fueled by bad coffee and worse jokes, victory beers after closing tough cases, holding each other through the ones we couldn’t solve. Rissa was there through my divorce from Ryan, through those dark days when I thought I’d never be enough for anyone. And I was there for her when she lost her husband in a military training exercise gone bad.

And now she’s leaving.

I blink hard, fighting back tears. This isn’t how I want to spend our last day together—crying over cinnamon rolls at 9:00 AM.

“Okay, enough moping,” Rissa declares. “We’ve got work to do. These reports aren’t going to file themselves.”

I’m grateful for the distraction. We spend the next few hours tackling the remaining paperwork from the mafia case, working in companionable silence broken only by occasional questions or comments. It’s familiar, comfortable—like a well-worn pair of shoes you’re about to outgrow.

Around noon, Captain Reynolds calls Rissa into his office for her final debrief. She squeezes my shoulder as she passes, a silent promise to return soon.

I use the time to organize the completed files, making sure everything is properly documented and filed away. The Columbus Mafia case will go down as one of our biggest busts ever—multiple arrests, countless charges ranging from assault to attempted murder, and enough evidence to keep the DA’s office busy for months.

On paper, it looks like a perfect win. Clean, by-the-book police work leading to the takedown of a major criminal organization. Nothing about Zeke’s involvement, nothing aboutLeo’s kidnapping or the real reason Alessandro Costa and his top men ended up dead before we could arrest them.

Sometimes I wonder if I should feel guilty about that—about knowing the truth and choosing to hide it. But then I remember Leo’s terrified face when we found him, remember how close I came to losing him, and any guilt vanishes. Some truths are better left buried.

Rissa returns from her meeting looking slightly emotional but composed. “That’s it,” she says, dropping into her chair. “I’m officially done. Just need to hand in my badge at the end of the day.”

My stomach twists. “Already?”

She nods, running a finger along the edge of her nameplate. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Like this isn’t really happening.”

“Yeah.” I swallow hard. “Listen, about tonight—”

“No.” She cuts me off firmly. “We already talked about this. No going-away party, no big farewell dinner. I just want a quiet evening with Skylar.”

“But—”

“Eve.” Her voice is tender. “You know I hate goodbyes. Let’s just finish out the day like normal, okay?”