Chapter 30: Coffee and Cold Leads
Morning came slow at the upstate house. Sunlight slipped through the curtains in thin gold lines, warming the hardwood floor where last night’s clothes still lay scattered like forgotten promises. I woke to the smell of coffee drifting up from downstairs and the soft sound of Bella humming in the kitchen—some old song she always fell back on when she was thinking too hard.
I pulled on sweatpants and a T-shirt, padded barefoot down the stairs. She stood at the island in one of my flannel shirts, sleeves rolled to her elbows, hair messy from sleep and my hands. The coffee maker gurgled its last drops. She poured two mugs without looking up, slid one across the counter to me when I sat on the stool opposite her.
“Black,” she said. “Figured you’d need it st
