“Do you know the man’s name?”
“I can't remember,” Zeke admitted finally, frustration evident in his voice. “But everyone knows him.”
“Why is that, Zeke?”
“It's the guy with all the tattoos.” Zeke traced invisible patterns on the tabletop with his greasy finger, mimicking the designs he was describing. “On his arms and his neck. He makes pictures on people's skin.”
“Thank you for talking with me, Zeke,” Brook said, maintaining the warm tone she'd established. “You've been very helpful.”
Zeke smiled at the praise, the momentary tension forgotten.
“Can I go watch my show now, Brett?” Zeke asked, turning to his brother with uncomplicated trust. “It's almost time for the one with the talking animals.”
“Go ahead,” Brett directed, his expression softening slightly. “I'll clean up here.”
After Zeke had left the kitchen, Brett turned back to Brook, the warmth evaporating from his expression. "
“Are you satisfied now? Figg and Heather had a disagreement. Zeke intervened clumsily, and I took him back to the care facility. End of story.”
Brook slowly rose from her chair, maintaining eye contact with Brett.
“What were they arguing about, Brett? And why didn't you mention this when we first asked about Heather? We specifically asked you about the two of them.”
“If you remember correctly, your question had something to do with Figg’s interest in Heather being more than just friends. I answered, and I stick by my response. Figg is just a man with poor social skills and too many tattoos.”
“You still didn’t answer the question,” Brook pointed out, grateful that Deputy Benz had remained quiet during theinterview. She made a mental note to ask for him next time she needed someone by her side. “You see, Brett, this is the second time that Figg and Heather were witnessed having a disagreement. I need to know why.”
“I can’t help you, Miss Sloane. We mind our own business around these parts,” Brett stressed as he gestured toward the small hallway that led to the front door. “And if I hear that you’re spreading rumors about my brother speaking ill of Figg Whitlow, I’ll hire a lawyer to find out how you got information from his care facility without a warrant. I’m sure you and Deputy Benz can see yourselves out.”
19
Brooklyn Sloane
January 2026
Friday – 10:39am
The cold air sliced through Brook's layers as she stepped out of the SUV, her breath immediately creating puffs of condensation. She tightened her scarf, tucking the ends securely inside her jacket. She glanced down the sidewalk toward the tattoo parlor, the sign in the window stating it wouldn't open for at least another twenty minutes.
The drive from the Sorsdal property back to town had given her time to process Zeke's claims. Fortunately, his childlike recounting had provided the confirmation she needed for the next interview.
Figg Whitlow had been seen confronting Heather Moore twice.
Why such animosity?
Brook pressed the lock button on her key fob, listening for the confirming beep before minding her step on the pavement. While most of the snow had been removed, several patches ofice remained here and there. Deputy Benz had pulled his cruiser directly behind her. He still had the engine running to keep the heat circulating. She approached the driver's side window, which he lowered, the mechanical hum a little more audible in the cold.
“Sign in the window says they open at eleven.” Lucas gestured toward the passenger seat. “Twenty minutes is too long to wait out in the cold.”
“Which is why I'm walking across the street to the bakery. I need a coffee,” Brook said as she pulled on her leather gloves. She would remove them before interviewing Figg Whitlow, but she refused to be uncomfortable until then. “Would you like one?”
“I appreciate the offer,” Lucas replied with hesitation, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “But I'm good.”
“My treat,” Brook added with a slight upturn of her lips. “Black coffee? Or something else?”
“Black is fine,” Lucas replied, his resistance crumbling immediately. “Thanks.”
Brook nodded and turned toward the bakery across the street, one of the few businesses showing signs of life at this hour. The frigid temperatures were only partly to blame. She’d already informed the team that she believed they should attend the town hall meeting on Sunday. She had only ever publicly released a profile twice in her career, in hopes of gaining public support.
