Morning light threads through the heavy curtains and lays pale bars across the bed. Dallas wakes first, one arm heavy over the blanket, while the room holds that soft hotel hush after a long night.

Elena stirs beside him, hair loose on the pillow, her expression still fogged with sleep. Murderbone is a dark curve of fur at the foot of the bed, rising only long enough to thump his tail once.

Dallas reaches for the phone, the old reflex to check the line giving way to something easier, something warmer. The city outside stays distant, muffled by curtains and sea air.

Murderbone pads to the window and looks out at the brightening water, ears forward. Elena gives Dallas a lazy smile, waiting for the call to go through.

Dallas draws the phone closer, angling the screen toward the window light. A fresh Harbor Unit notice sits at the top of the list, flagged priority.

The message preview opens cleanly, but the room fills with a sharp chirp from the handset, loud enough to make Murderbone lift his head.

Dallas sees only a short callback request, a docket tag, and a location line in the district. No details, just enough to pull at the old thread.

Elena sits up straighter, letting the sheet slide to her waist, and studies Dallas’s face for the decision before he says it.

Dallas lifts the handset higher and angles it into the window light, letting the screen bloom white for a second before the text sharpens.

A second line appears under the callback request, a district office extension and a fresh timestamp. The note is newer than the preview suggested.

Elena leans closer, reading past Dallas’s shoulder, while Murderbone stays planted by the window, eyes shifting once toward the door and back again.

The phone screen refreshes once more, and a tiny memo line drops into view: return call today, no public desk.

Elena’s expression tightens just a little, not worried, exactly, but alert, as she waits to see whether Dallas dials or lets it sit.

Dallas tips the handset toward Elena and lets the message play out again, this time with her in earshot.

Her mouth quirks, but her eyes stay on Dallas, reading him as much as the screen.

She eases back against the pillows, one hand brushing the sheet at her lap, trying to keep the morning lightness alive.

Dallas keeps the phone angled between them, and the battery drops one bright notch as the screen waits.

The message ends, and the room stays quiet for a beat, all sunlit sheets and held breaths.

Dallas lets the phone rest lower, close enough for her to see the screen, far enough to feel the choice in his hand.

Murderbone shifts at the window, then settles again, still watching the door while the room keeps its soft, beach-side hush.

Dallas taps the speaker icon, and the little room gives the call a voice.

The Harbor Unit line crackles in, thin and official, cutting clean through the morning hush.

Elena sits straighter, eyes on Dallas, not the phone. Murderbone keeps his post by the window, ears forward, watching the door like it owes him money.

The operator’s line goes quiet for a beat, then continues, waiting on the hook. Elena keeps her eyes on Dallas, letting the room stay still around the decision.

A small, dry click comes through the phone, followed by the faint hiss of a held connection, as if the desk is simply passing the silence along.

Dallas takes the call. The operator clicks out, and a Harbor Unit voice slides in, low and clipped, asking for Dallas Fontaine by name.

Elena’s expression tightens, then softens again as she studies Dallas over the phone. Murderbone rises from the window and pads one step closer, ears forward.

The hotel room stays quiet for a beat, but the calm has changed shape. The call is answered, and it now waits on Dallas to decide what kind of morning this becomes.