“I’m not sure it matters.” Sera laughed, extending her hand. “Sera Forte. I’m from the DA’s office and am working with Gavin on an interjurisdictional task force. I’d love to find out more about what you do.”
“He hasn’t talked your ears off about it yet?” Although Kerrigan was friendly and warm, Gavin didn’t miss the way her gaze cataloged the fact that Sera wore his jacket.
Or the fact that she was on the boat at all.
“I figured this would be a good chance for Sera to get firsthand knowledge of how we manage evidence,” he quickly jumped in. “It’s an angle we’re playing for our task force project. Especially those instances where evidence is handed from one group to another.”
Whatever speculation she might have carried vanished as Kerrigan pointed toward the front of the boat. “Let me show you how we’ve been doing this. I think it’ll give you a sense for our steps, even though these are all still NYPD protocols, not handoffs outside the department.”
Kerrigan stopped, her gaze drifting toward the water, Hell Gate Bridge rising in the distance. “You know, this is a really good case to use. It’s not busywork or theoretical, but something that can help make our work better, and it’s good you’re here to see it in person.”
“Thank you,” Sera said. “That’s one of the things that’s been impressive about the task force so far. It’s set up to be more than just theory. We’re working on outcomes that can have practical application.”
“I think you’d take away a lot from the Parker case, too. The volume of evidence, and bringing that boat up off the harbor floor, is a textbook case of evidence management.”
“I’d love to talk to you about it.”
Kerrigan and Sera exchanged a few more questions before the action commenced on their boat. Jayden and another diver, Marco Hennessy, were on point to bring up additional guns.
Gavin considered the initial find and his and Wyatt’s estimates of how much was on the riverbed floor as he gave Jayden a hand up. “How much is left down there?”
“This should make thirty-five and thirty-six,” Kerrigan said from where she took the evidence package from Marco, her facts on the dive well in hand. “I figure there are about fifteen more to bring up.”
“And you’re doing it one by one?”
“One by one?” Jayden asked as he slipped off his tank. “If she had her druthers, we’d bring up each piece in pairs.”
“I’m not quite that bad.” Kerrigan playfully stuck her tongue out at Jayden, the member of the team she was closest to, before updating Gavin on the past twelve hours. “We considered bringing down a container and trying to retrieve multiple pieces that way, but after talking through it, we really want to keep as much integrity as we can with each piece. So we’re bagging everything down there, bringing it up one gun to one diver.”
“It’s tedious work.”
That grin flashed once more, Kerrigan Doyle’s excitement and enthusiasm for her work stamped in that wide smile.
“Oh yeah, but it’ll all be worth it when we catch the bastards with airtight evidence.”
Airtight evidence.
She’d overheard Kerrigan use that term earlier, and as Sera looked over the expanse of guns laid out on the floor of the evidence boat, she recognized that was clearly the goal.
Late morning had drifted well past lunch and on into the afternoon as the work went on and on around her: photographs; audio memos recorded by each diver on how they found the piece under the water; and the tapping of keys on several laptops as each evidence recovery agent managed their portion of the haul.
After making her initial observations, she’d asked where she could help and had been quickly put to work with a laptop of her own, cataloging what was on the ground and adding her impressions. After laboring over each piece and thinking about how to describe it, she added in the same impressions she would use when building a case.
And now, reading through her notes, Sera felt a distinct shot of pride at what she’d added to the process. She might not know how to scientifically and accurately assess decomposition timelines, but she knew exactly how to use decomp stats to make a case around intent, possible motive and probable guilt.
“You want some lunch?”
Sera glanced up from her screen to find Gavin standing before her, a paper plate full of a sandwich and potato chips. “What time is it?”
“Almost two thirty. I know I said there’s no food on the boat, but when they traded out the last team, they brought in sandwiches, too.”
“Then I’d love some lunch.” Her eyes widened just as her stomach let out a low gurgling sound. “I’m not sure how, but for the first time in two months this work has made me forget about eating. It’s a novel experience, let me tell you.”
She gently closed the laptop lid and put it on the bench beside her, gesturing Gavin into the seat next to her. He’d built a plate for himself, and they sat in the bright sunshine with their meal, eating in companionable silence.
“You’ve made quite an impression on everyone,” Gavin said as he picked up a chip.
“All I can say is likewise. I never doubted the work your team did was impressive, but this is something beyond my wildest imaginings. It’s grueling, yet everyone seems to have an endless drive for the work.”
“We’re a bit of an odd lot.”
“You’re a family.”
She saw the moment her words registered, something between a direct hit and a shot clean through the heart.
It made no sense—and she had no idea how she knew—but in that moment, Sera recognized the truth beneath Gavin’s demeanor and those sometimes-sharp spikes she’d seen in his personality. Those moments where he fumbled to articulate what he wanted or needed. She’d sensed it from the first, but hadn’t had words for it. Only now she knew.
The concept of family didn’t come easily to him.
And with that understanding came one of her own. It had never come easily to her, either. Yet here they were, making a family of their own.
“We certainly have each other’s backs.”
Which, she almost added, was one of the definitions of family, but held herself back. There was no need to press her point, and she could circle back to it later. When he’d had time to process it, and so had she.
His team did have his back, and he had theirs. The ease between all of them—and the reality of how dependent they were on one another for each drop beneath the water—had forged serious bonds. Ones that went well beyond the professional.
Most cops had it, she admitted. She’d seen it in her work from the earliest days of her career: so much of what they did in the DA’s office linked to the work of the NYPD. That sense that their professions weren’t just what they got up each day and did, but were a calling that each went into, knowing full well the risks.
