“I’m waiting for you, Jacob.”
10
Theo Neville
January 2026
Wednesday – 8:06 am
The pungent smell of microwaved breakfast assaulted Theo's senses the moment he stepped through the double doors of Crescent Ridge Elementary. He paused just inside the lobby to give himself time to acclimate to the odor and to view his surroundings. The vibrant primary colors of the children’s artwork hung proudly on the walls, yet they struggled to brighten the dull institutional beige that someone had chosen as neutral.
He’d observed the same paint in prisons.
He flexed his fingers against the lingering cold that had seeped through his leather gloves during the walk from the SUV. He'd dropped Brook at the entrance a few minutes ago, having circled the lot and noticing the only spots available were in the back row. The bitter wind had made the walk feel twice as long.
A security camera tracked his movement from the corner, its red light blinking with mechanical indifference. To his right,two mothers carried on a hushed yet animated conversation about the logistics of an upcoming bake sale. The taller woman gestured emphatically while her companion nodded, jotting notes on the back of what appeared to be a permission slip. He recalled using that pink slip numerous times in his childhood.
“We need at least six volunteers,” the taller woman insisted, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. “Last time we were understaffed, and the line was almost out the door.”
Theo began removing his gloves as he turned his attention to the administration office ahead. Brook would have already requested permission to speak to Carol Hensley, Tyler Quinn, and Clyde Weaver.
“…about Heather. Remember, Carol used to work with her.”
The mention of Heather by a couple standing to Theo’s left brought him up short. He’d noticed them upon his arrival, but their conversation had been muted by the bake sale discussion.
The man, dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and slacks, had just removed his jacket, revealing a crisp white undershirt, while photograph equipment bags lay at their feet. The woman held a clipboard, but she seemed more interested in discussing Brook’s request to speak with certain individuals about Heather Moore’s death than in getting to work.
“I told you the other day that a group of private investigators rented out some of Eugene Bernard’s cabins,” the woman continued as she held out the clipboard for her colleague to take. She then began to remove her jacket. “Plus, Kim at the bakery confirmed it.”
Theo adjusted his course, unzipping his jacket as he moved toward the couple. He reached into the interior pocket to retrieve his credentials.
“Excuse me.” Theo waited until both turned toward him. It was obvious they had believed he was a father, not someone in law enforcement. “I'm Theo Neville, with S&E Investigations. Icouldn't help overhearing you mention Heather Moore. Did you know her?”
“Kyle Wheat,” the man said, extending his hand. His grip was firm, his palm dry. “This is my wife, Faith.”
The woman offered her hand next. She wore a navy cardigan over a floral blouse, her blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Her contrition at being overheard was more than evident by the flush on her cheeks.
“We knew Heather, yes,” Faith said after reclaiming the clipboard from her husband. “We’re from Harrowick, too. We live in the blue house on the west side. Past the lightning-struck oak tree.”
Theo nodded as if he were familiar with the location, though he'd seen only a fraction of Harrowick's residential areas.
“If you have a minute, I'd appreciate hearing anything you might remember about Heather. Every perspective helps us build a more complete picture.”
Kyle and Faith glanced at each other before nodding their agreement. Theo figured they wanted information as much as he, only for a very different reason. He’d heard the bake sale conversation come to an abrupt halt once the two other women overheard the introductions.
“I used to be a teacher's assistant in Harrowick,” Faith said, leading into an explanation of her relationship with Heather. “I would help out Heather every once in a while, but I quit after Kyle and I got married.”
“With Faith's head for business, it was a no-brainer,” Kyle added as he gestured toward the equipment at his feet. “We specialize in weddings, graduations, and family portraits. I got in over my head when I put in a bid to the school district to be their photographer.”
“He was drowning in invoices and scheduling photo shoots, so it just seemed natural for me to help,” Faith said as shenudged Kyle with her elbow good-naturedly. When Theo didn’t smile, she seemed to realize that they’d gotten way off topic. “Heather and I weren't friends outside of work. If you're looking for people who really knew Heather, you should speak with Lindsay Sharpe and Stephanie Maddox. They were inseparable since high school.”
“Thick as thieves, those three,” Kyle confirmed with a nod. “I should know—I worked for the yearbook. They went everywhere together.”
Sylvie had already arranged to meet both women for breakfast tomorrow. Theo would pass along to her just how close Heather and her friends were back in the day.
“Thank you for that information,” Theo said, glancing toward the administration office. Brook had yet to exit, and he wanted to join her before any interviews commenced. “We're trying to be as thorough as possible.”
“Of course. We want to help. What happened to Heather was...” She swallowed visibly. “No one deserves that.”
