She logged into her computer, and I watched her shoulders pull in a millimeter.
River was beside me, close enough to speak under her breath. “She’s checking her sent folder.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“She wants to know if the forward registered anywhere.”
“She’s going to find out it registered everywhere,” I said. “Just not yet.”
Jordyn stood and moved toward us with the bright, helpful energy of someone performing competence.
“Sheriff?” she called. “Do you have a minute?”
River’s hand brushed my wrist. Easy. Grounding.
“Sure,” I said. “My office.”
She followed me in and closed the door. Her smile held, but something behind it had gone careful.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Should it not be? Did I miss something?”
A small laugh. “I saw a restricted file come through this morning. Looked urgent. I wasn’t sure if you meant to tag it that way.”
Not “I accessed it.” Not “I checked it.” Saw it come through. As if it had floated across her screen on its own.
“It’s restricted because it’s sensitive,” I said. “New lead. Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Right.” Her eyes moved to the whiteboard, then to the files on my desk. “It’s just…the name looked familiar. I thought I might’ve seen it in one of the old community fund summaries.”
Testing. Tossing the line out to see if I’d bite.
“Good catch,” I said.
She flinched. It was almost nothing, but it was there.
“If you need help on it,” she offered, “I’m happy to take point.”
“I’ll let you know.”
She moved for the door, paused, then turned back with the expression of someone who’d done some calculations and decided to spend what she had.
“Sheriff,” she said quietly, “you should be careful who you trust with sensitive information.”
There it was.
Thin. Transparent. Sloppy.
“So should you,” I said.
Her eyes flickered, something moving behind them that she got control of fast.
Then she left.
River slipped in before the door finished closing, and I could see from the set of her mouth that she’d heard every word.
“She’s rattled,” River said.