By the time Tom arrived home, it was already nearly nine o'clock. Warm yellow light spilled out from the large stone farmhouse, illuminating the cheerful red trim on the windows.

"Hey, Kev," he called as he walked in through the front door, shutting and locking it behind him. He couldn't hold back a sigh of relief at having finished another day on the Blossom case. Normally, Tom wouldn't trade his position as sheriff of Riverdale for anything, but this particular investigation just plain left him drained physically and emotionally, day in and day out.

Tom found his son in the kitchen, fixing a plate of food by the stove. Last year, when Kevin was a freshman in high school, he had taken it upon himself to regularly prepare meals for the two of them. The decision was no doubt in part motivated by Tom's own limited culinary abilities; as a single father who had raised Kevin on his own while juggling his career, time and energy had always worked against him where cooking was concerned. Luckily, Kevin's skills in the kitchen were seemingly endless, much to Tom's appreciation.

"Welcome home," Kevin told him good-naturedly.

"And being home is welcome," Tom replied easily, taking his regular seat at the table, where a place had already been set.

"Hope you're hungry," Kevin said with a smile, bringing the plate, stacked with broccoli, sweet potatoes, and roast beef, over to him and setting it on the table.

Despite being father and son, they didn't look all that much alike. Unlike Tom's own linebacker build, Kevin had a long, lithe runner's physique, which he put to good use in both track and cross country. But Tom had always thought he could see himself in Kevin's smile.

"Thanks." Looking at the meal Kevin had prepared, Tom was suddenly realized that he was ravenous; he had skipped lunch to go over to Mayor McCoy's office and give her an update on the case. Eagerly digging into his food, he barely took the time to breathe until Kevin brought back a cold beer from the fridge, twisted off the cap, and set it beside his plate.

"So, how's the case going?" Kevin asked casually as Tom took a long swig of beer.

Eyeing Kevin speculatively over the rim of his bottle, Tom gave a deliberately brief response before returning to his meal. "Fine."

A silence settled over the table. For a few minutes it continued, until Kevin gave another attempt at conversation.

"You know, it's strange," he commented. "Everyone is always asking me about Jason Blossom, thinking that with you as my dad, I must have some sort of inside info on the case. But I was away at work when it actually happened. I'm probably more out of the loop than anyone else."

Tom couldn't respond to Kevin right away due to a mouthful of his dinner, but his pulse quickened slightly at his son's words. Kevin had been working as a counselor in a summer camp upstate at the time his classmate Jason Blossom almost certainly drowned, from the first week of June until the second week of August—last week. He hadn't been around on July 4th, when Jason went missing after an ill-fated boating accident on Sweetwater River, and thus hadn't partaken in the massive search that was organized in the aftermath.

Tom swallowed, but the food stuck in his throat. "Well, I'm sorry I can't be entertaining you with fresh gossip from the case. Please remember that it's a serious matter involving the death of someone you knew and liked." The words sounded harsh and accusatory even to his own ears.

Kevin stared at him as if he had never seen him before in his life. "That's not what I meant, not at all! I was just—look, if you ever wanted to talk—"

"I can't disclose details about an ongoing investigation," Tom said, his tone short and clipped. It was his standard answer when anyone asked him about the Blossom case. A case involving the disappearance, and now likely death, of a boy his son's age. At this point, Tom knew the only outcome of the case was finding Jason's body, an event he knew was inevitable but dreaded all the same.

"And I'm not asking you to." There was a forced calm in Kevin's voice. "But if you ever do want to talk, I'm here."

"I leave my cases at the office." Tom made sure his voice brooked no argument. "I'm not talking about them when I come home. Understood?"

Something in Kevin's eyes shuttered, and he looked away. "Okay."

"Good." Very aware of the rising tension between them, Tom tried to lighten the mood. "It's good." He gestured at his plate. "Dinner, I mean."

Kevin didn't so much as even smile at the compliment. "Thanks."