Maya: Already uploaded to team folder.
"Your team?" Cory asked, and she realized she was smiling for the first time all day.
"Axel apparently tried to make friends with the local wildlife." She showed him the screen. "It went about as well as you'd expect."
His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "Surprised the elk survived."
"Right?" She typed back quickly.
Please tell me someone's getting screenshots for the Christmas party slideshow.
The response was immediate.
Zara: Helloooo? Already done. HD quality
Cory's phone rang before she could share more elk-wrestling updates. He answered with his official voice, the one that made her think of press conferences and perfect posture.
"Fraser. Go." A pause. "You're sure? Where? Have you dispatched a unit yet?" Another pause, longer. "You’re a wonder. Do me a favor. Hold off on that dispatch a while longer. We'll be right there."
He disconnected, already standing. "Graceline got a call from a shop owner downtown. Homeless woman dumpsterdiving wearing a distinctive jacket. Black with custom embroidery."
Izzy's heart lurched. "My jacket?"
"'Firecracker' on the back, flames around the lettering." He was already moving toward the door. "She's near the old train depot."
They grabbed coats and weapons. Cory checked his service pistol while she verified her Glock had a full magazine. Just another evening in their bizarre new normal.
The December night bit with sharp teeth as they exited the hangar in Cory’s personal SUV.
Downtown Hope Landing looked like a Christmas card had thrown up on it. Every streetlight wrapped in garland, every storefront twinkling with lights that reflected off the fresh snow. Even the old train depot—abandoned for twenty years—sported a wreath on its boarded-up door.
But the cozy smalltown cuteness barely registered. With her baby gone…and Andrew in full revenge mode, she wasn’t feeling the holiday vibe.
"There." Cory pointed to a figure huddled near the depot's covered platform.
The woman looked sixty but was probably younger, life on the streets aging her prematurely. She wore multiple layers beneath the distinctive jacket on top, plastic bags wrapped around her boots for waterproofing. A shopping cart held her worldly possessions, topped with a sleeping bag that had seen better decades.
Cory approached slowly, hands visible, no sudden movements. "Ma'am? I'm Chief Fraser with Hope Landing PD. We're not here to cause trouble."
The woman clutched the jacket tighter. "Didn't steal it. Found it fair and square."
"We know," Izzy said gently, recognizing the defensive fear. "We just want to know where you found it." She showed her Knight Tactical ID. "Someone took it, and we're trying to find them."
The woman studied the ID, then Izzy's face, then the ID again. "You're not gonna arrest me?"
"No, ma'am," Cory assured her. "But that jacket's evidence in a case. How about we trade? I've got a brand new winter coat in my vehicle. Warmer than that one."
He jogged back to the SUV while Izzy crouched near the woman, maintaining safe distance but trying to appear non-threatening.
"I'm Izzy. What's your name?"
"Rose." The woman fingered the jacket's embroidery. "Pretty stitching. Reminded me of my boy's motorcycle jacket."
"My friend Martha had it made special. Kind of embarrassing, actually." Izzy managed a small smile. "Where'd you find it?"
"Dumpster behind the Wagon Wheel." Rose shook her head. "Wasteful. Perfectly good jacket."
The Wagon Wheel Motel. Where Andrew had been staying. But he was too tall, too broad to fit in her jacket. Another piece that didn't work.
