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"I got distracted."

Lucy folds her arms. "From spying?"

"I prefer neighborhood observation."

"You watch too many detective shows."

"I don't watch any."

She rolls her eyes. "That's somehow worse."

I reach for the grocery bags before Laurel can protest, saying, "You're all coming to my place."

"We literally just bought food," Laurel protests.

"Excellent. We can ignore it together."

She gives me the look that says she's already decided arguing isn't worth the effort.

By the time Ashby and Torin arrive, cartons of takeout have replaced the groceries across my kitchen island, because none of us can be bothered to cook after unloading everything.

Ashby's working through emails between bites. Torin has a sketchbook open beside his dinner, adding another line every few minutes whilst still joining in the conversation.

Lucy spends ten minutes explaining why raccoons would make excellent crossing guards if people gave them a chance before announcing she's tired. Maggie smiles, offers to tuck her in, and disappears down the hallway, with Lucy chattering non-stop about whether raccoons should wear reflective vests so they don’t get run over.

The conversation drifts from Torin's eccentric transmission to whether Ashby schedules bathroom breaks on a spreadsheet.

"That would be ridiculous," Ashby maintains.

Torin doesn't even glance up from his sketchbook. "He means inefficient because they're recurring."

"I hate both of you by the way," Ashby tells them calmly.

"We know you tolerate us," I reply.

"It’s my cross to bear."

I notice Laurel listening carefully until she hears Lucy's bedroom door click shut. Then she sets her water bottle on the counter.

"Maggie's ready," she says. "She wants to go to the police tomorrow."

Ashby puts his phone aside. "Tomorrow?"

Laurel nods. "She said if she waits any longer she'll convince herself to keep living with it."

I don't have any trouble believing that.

Ashby rests his forearms on the counter. "I'll call ahead first thing so they'll be expecting her. She shouldn't have to sit there repeating herself to five different people."

"Thank you, Ashby," Laura shoots him a look of gratitude.

I don’t feel any jealousy. Ashby’s the best man for that job, and I’m glad she can rely on him to do it properly. I want her to have that peace of mind.

Torin closes his sketchbook. "Does she want any of us there?"

"She wants me with her," Laurel says.

"Okay," I tell her. "What do you need us to handle?"