“That the same lock from earlier in the week?” he asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Carter confirmed it. Was tossed in the scrap bin out back.”
Gabe exhaled a long breath as he rose to his feet. “This wasn’t random. They knew what they were doing and they’re sending a message.”
“That’s what I said,” Bennett muttered, arms crossed.
“I’ll get a forensics team out here first thing in the morning,” Gabe said, snapping photos with his phone. “Sorry, you’ll have to leave the glass where it is, but you can board up the window. And don’t hold your breath for prints. Embedded in mortar like that? Odds are slim.”
“But the timing matters,” Mac added, turning toward the window. “Someone waited until nightfall. They scoped the place.”
Matthew nodded. “They know our patterns—or at least hers.”
Gabe’s jaw tensed. “We need to lock this place down even tighter.”
“I already spoke with Carter,” Mac said. “He’s pulling camera footage and will come by later with extra equipment.”
Just then, the front door opened again, this time quieter. A woman stepped in—tall, confident stride, dark ponytail swaying behind her, expression calm but observant.
Rylee Bryson.
Gabe’s kid sister. ESI’s only female investigator, and one of the sharpest people on Mac’s team. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste time with greetings. Her gaze zeroed in on Laurel like a heat-seeking missile, and within seconds, she crossed the room to her side.
Bennett watched as Laurel blinked at her approach, clearly not expecting her, but some of the tension in her shoulders bled out almost instantly.
Whatever Rylee said, it was quiet. Just for Laurel.
But the way Laurel nodded, just once, the edge of her mouth tugging in what looked like relief, was enough.
She’d found her person in the room.
Good. Because as much as he wanted to be that for her, right now he needed to remain in work mode.
Rylee glanced over at Bennett briefly, just long enough to give him a small nod of acknowledgment before steering Laurel gently toward the island and helping her into one of the stools.
“She’s good,” Rylee said softly to the room. “Just rattled.”
“And pissed,” she muttered again, folding her arms over the counter like she dared anyone to question it.
A beat passed before Matthew gave a low whistle. “Well, at least we know her spirit’s intact.”
Mac, still standing near the broken window, cracked a rare grin. “That might be the most accurate assessment of the night.”
Gabe didn’t smile. He never did when things got personal. His eyes scanned Laurel, making his own judgment before turning back to Bennett.
“You staying tonight?” he asked.
Bennett didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Gabe gave a short nod. “Good. I’ll have patrol pass by on a regular basis. And Hunter is still out there, patrolling the neighborhood.”
Bennett exhaled, shifting his weight as he scanned the room again. Laurel was pale but still upright, with Rylee keeping a careful eye on her. Mac texted someone about reinforcing the windows, while Matthew measured the frame.
It felt a little like triage after an op. Secure the site. Assess the damage. Watch for the next hit.
His fingers twitched at his sides.
“I don’t want her alone for a second,” Gabe said, voice lower now as he stepped closer. “We both know whoever did this was escalating.”
