Page 24 of The Sinner's Son
Holly zipped up her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder. “But the camera loves you so much.”
Sawyer waved her off. “Be safe. Stay alert.”
Topher gave him a two-finger salute, and Holly tapped her heart before they left. And then it was just Sawyer in the silent bullpen. He unlocked the door to the conference room he set aside for the investigation. The case files, which they agreed to give Alec full access to, sat next to the whiteboards for Monica Horton and Jane Doe number one. Sawyer had locked the other three files away since the DNA results had ruled them out as Andrew Bishop’s victims. The long table in the center of the room provided ample space for Alec and his two-person crew to work. He glanced at the clock and noted he had thirty minutes until his guests were due to arrive, so he reviewed everything he knew so far.
After Alec showed his ass last Wednesday evening, Sawyer focused his efforts on finding someone from Monica Horton’s family who was willing to talk to him. He’d struck gold with Talia Atwood, Monica’s first cousin, who now lived in Jacksonville. She’d been hesitant to talk about Monica at first. Her death had hit her family hard, but it also brought a lot of embarrassment when the media coverage mostly focused on her alleged sex work. Monica’s family had also been unimpressed by the department’s handling of her case, and they’d refused to engage with each new detective who took a swing at solving her murder.
Sawyer wished he could say that times had changed enough for the media and their police department to handle similar cases differently, but he only had to recall Jason’s desperation the previous night to realize that the needle hadn’t moved far enough. Cayden had Royce in his corner, and he wouldn’t ease up until he got answers. And Sawyer must’ve said the right thing or struck the correct tone with Talia because she agreed to a Zoom call on her lunch break.
A shoe scuffed against the tile floor with a loud squeak, and Sawyer ducked his head outside the conference door. Footsteps grew louder in the corridor, and muffled voices turned intoan audible conversation as Alec and company approached the bullpen. Sawyer forced a friendly smile on his face and stepped out of the conference room.
“I made a real ass of myself last week,” Alec said, “and I’m nervous about our reception this morning.”
“I’m sure those donuts will go a long way toward making amends,” Marina Woods, Alec’s producer, said. Sawyer recognized her no-nonsense tone from their meeting in Denver.
A masculine chuckle rumbled down the corridor and made Sawyer smile. “Playing into stereotypes by offering donuts to a cop could backfire and piss him off even more.” Sawyer assumed the new voice belonged to Ricky Nunez, the videographer Alec told him about.
“Fuck,” Alec hissed. “You might be right. We should probably turn around, pack up, and get out of town before they run us out.”
“Oh, stop it,” Marina said. “I was there when you met with Detective Key in Denver, and you guys got along very well. How badly could you have fucked things up already?”
“My behavior was a toss-up between petulant toddler and arrogant asshole. I can’t decide.” Alec sighed.
“So, a petulant asshole,” Ricky said.
Alec snorted. “Pretty much.”
“Well, we’re here now,” Marina said. “Just apologize for whatever you did or said and ask for a clean slate. Detective Key seems like a reasonable man.”
Sawyer crossed the bullpen and poked his head out of the door. “Only after I’ve had my first cup of coffee, Marina.”
The trio stopped suddenly and looked at him with a variety of expressions on their faces. Alec blushed with mortification and dropped his gaze to the three huge pastry boxes in his arms. Ricky grinned impishly and readjusted the equipmentbags slung over his shoulder. Marina’s arched brow begged the question:And have you?
“Luckily, I’m on my second cup this morning.” Sawyer gestured for them to come inside before ducking back into the room. “And the stereotype that cops love donuts exists for a reason,” he told Ricky. “Some in the precinct might have bitchy thoughts while they devour your gift, but most won’t air their grievances for fear you might take the donuts back. And the ones who get snarly are hard to take seriously with powdered sugar on their shirts or jelly smears on their faces.”
Ricky’s dark eyes shimmered with glee as he rubbed his hands together. “I like you. This is going to be fun.”
“I’m hoping our time here is going to be productive,” Marina said. “And award winning.” That latter part added a slight flush to her cheeks. Sawyer hated to break it to her, but accolades were the last thing on his mind.
“And I just want the truth,” Alec said. “No matter the cost.”
Something about Alec’s tone implied that the financial toll of the investigation was the least of his concerns. Rehashing old trauma to get justice for other victims would be a huge detriment to Alec’s emotional health and could threaten whatever healing he’d managed so far. Acknowledging that made it easier for Sawyer to find some grace and extend an olive branch.
He led them to the conference room he’d appointed for their use. “Marina, I can assure you we’ll be extremely productive. In fact, we have a Zoom call with a victim’s family member at eleven thirty this morning. Winning awards is all up to you guys.” To Ricky, he said, “Keeping a sense of humor in this line of work is the hardest thing to do, but it’s important. It keeps us human, and investigators who are still in touch with their humanity are better at their jobs. So, laughing is great as long as it happens at the appropriate times.” Sawyer turned to Alec. “Let’s take your peace offering upstairs to the break roomto share with the entire precinct. Then I’ll take you around for some introductions.”
He looked nervous but nodded. “Do you guys need my help setting up?”
“Nope,” Ricky said as he removed recording equipment from a bag. “Leave me a Boston cream so I can eat it after I pack in the rest of our gear from the vehicle.” Alec set down the pastry boxes and whipped out a stack of napkins from his back pocket. He opened the top box, pulled out a glorious pastry with chocolate ganache icing, and placed it on a napkin for Ricky.
Marina sat down and removed a sleek laptop from her bag. “All of us will need to sit down later today and discuss the production schedule. The interview obviously wasn’t on my calendar, so I’ll need to readjust a few things before our chat.” She leaned over the table and helped herself to a glazed blueberry cake donut.
Sawyer forced his gaze away from the tempting pastries to address the podcast producer. “Marina, police investigations don’t work off a production schedule,” Sawyer said. “I get a lead, and I follow it as far as it takes me, which often includes detours that require my attention. Things develop in real time, not according to an agenda. I know your needs are different, and I will try to accommodate them as best I can. I just need you to remember that we all want the same thing, even when we’re approaching this project from different angles.”
“Fair enough,” Marina conceded. “I’d still like to sit down and have a conversation about the things I need from you.”
“And I’m happy to do so. How about over lunch? You choose the location, and I’ll treat.”
Ricky jerked his head up. “Is that offer good for all of us?”