Page 7 of Fallen Stars

“I need to shift their tasks.” He tips his head toward the large glass wall separating us from the cluster of cubicles in the main room.

“Okay…” He doesn’t need my approval to change employee tasks or workload.

He reaches up, presses his thumb and finger to his brows, then strokes the length of them until he reaches his temples. On an audible breath, his hand falls away. The lines of tension near the corners of his eyes and between his brows steal my attention.

I want to ask what happened. What has him frustrated. But I bite the inside of my cheek and wait. In time and when he is ready, Tymber will share what’s eating at him.

“Got off the phone with a buddy of mine from the city.” He leans back and stares toward the ceiling, eyes unfocused.

Minute-long seconds pass as I wait for him to add more. To clue me in on what has him so distressed.

Did someone pass away? Is he taking leave and putting me in charge of everything until he returns?

Before I agreed to partner with him, we talked about this shit. I don’t want to be the person people come to about petty bullshit.

Technical problems? All good.

Issues requiring sympathy? Not really my area of expertise.

Heartless, I am not. A hermit that speaks when he has something worth saying or is comfortable with the present company is a better description. I’m notnota people person. I’m just selective about who I choose asmypeople.

“He hired us for investigation work.”

If Tymber is this frazzled after the conversation, it isn’t because his buddy wants to spy on a romantic partner. Whatever this case is, it’s legit. Important. A big deal.

A shot of adrenaline hits my bloodstream and sends my pulse into overdrive. The voice in my head screams in victory as I give a mental high five to the powers that be. It’s about time a substantial job landed in our laps.

The corners of my mouth twitch as I fight the start of a smile. “That’s incredible, T.”

“It is.” He nods. “And it isn’t.”

My enthusiasm dies. “I don’t understand.”

Rolling back his chair, he rises and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m lightening your workload so you can focus on this.”

I nod. “Yeah. Sure, man.”

He levels me with a steady, unreadable gaze. “I’ll explain more after I reassign your work. But Levi…” Swiping a hand over his jaw, he adds, “No one can know what you’re working on.”

Most days, the only person familiar with the tasks on my docket is Tymber. My current workload isn’t classified or hidden from employees. I just don’t make it my business to share every facet of my life—professionally or personally.

“Not a problem.”

On an exhale, he jerks his head toward the door. “Let me deal with them.” Eyes unfocused, he nods. “Meet you in your office after.” And then he disappears from the room.

“There’s been an uptick in missing persons in the Northwest.” Tymber sits in a chair opposite me at the small table in my office. “My buddy in the Washington missing persons division says numbers have doubled in Washington and Oregon sincelast year.” He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling. “Government funding means limited resources and access.”

A soft growl fills the room.

“And since someone higher up deprioritized the recent missing persons for other tasks, the cases have been left to collect dust.”

My brows pinch in confusion. “So missing persons stopped searching for missing people?”

Exasperation and disbelief mar his forehead as he levels me with his gaze. “Seems to be the case.”

What the actual fuck?

I get that the unit may be overwhelmed. I get that they may have lost funding or staff. But what a piss-poor excuse to stop looking for missing citizens. Seek outside resources. Fundraise to help pay workers. Invite others to aid in research.

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