“Of course.” Brandt nodded, and in that small gesture, Naomi caught a glimpse of something unexpected—a man who saw the humanity behind the badge he carried.
“How did Leelee die?”
“Brutally,” Brandt said softly. “She was beaten and raped, then strangled with her own stockings. But we’re keeping that detail out of the press.”
“Jesus,” Walker said from his desk and threw back his coffee like a shot. “That poor girl.”
Brandt glanced in his direction before returning his attention to Naomi. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure she gets justice. Her and all the others, including your cousin. I’m reopening Mary Rose’s case.”
Naomi’s heart thudded against her ribs. Mary Rose. After all these years, someone was finally looking into what happened to her cousin. Someone with actual authority and resources. She glanced at Owen, finding his eyes already on her, watchful and steady.
“Thank you,” she managed, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s been a long time since anyone in law enforcement took Mary Rose’s case seriously.”
Brandt nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I’ve reviewed the original investigation. It was... inadequate.”
That was an understatement. The tribal police had searched for three days before declaring Mary Rose a runaway. By thetime they’d found her body a week later, evidence had been compromised by weather and animals. The case had gone cold almost immediately.
“We’re also reopening the investigation into Alice Dougherty’s disappearance,” Brandt continued after giving her a moment to absorb the news.
Naomi’s chest tightened. “Alice Dougherty. Greta’s sister.” Her voice came out as a whisper.
“Yes.” Brandt’s expression remained carefully neutral, but Naomi caught a flicker of something—compassion, maybe—in his eyes. “Even though she was white and not Indigenous, she fits the pattern.”
The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls closing in. All these years, she’d been fighting this battle alone, screaming into the void while girls and women vanished. And now, suddenly, the system was paying attention. It felt surreal, like she’d stumbled into an alternate reality where her work actually mattered to people with power.
“I want to help,” she said, sitting forward. “Whatever you need—my notes, my research on the patterns, interviews with the families—I have everything.”
Brandt hesitated, his gaze sliding briefly to Owen, who had gone utterly still beside her. The tension radiating from him was almost tangible, like heat from a fire.
“I appreciate that,” Brandt said carefully. “But given your recent trauma?—”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, cutting him off. “And I know things about these cases that aren’t in any official record. I’ve spent years talking to families, building trust with people who won’t speak to badges.”
She felt Owen shift beside her, his body angling subtly toward her. She didn’t need to look at his face to know hewas against this. The protective energy coming off him was unmistakable.
Brandt studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. I could use your insights. I’d like you to come with me to talk to Sheriff Goodwin if you’re up for it.”
“No,” Owen said, voice absolute, brooking no argument.
Naomi turned to him, skimming her hand over his arm. His muscles were coiled tight beneath her fingers, ready to spring.
“Hey,” she said softly, for his ears only. “This is what I’ve been working toward. A chance to actually do something that matters.”
His jaw worked, the muscle there jumping with tension. “You don’t need to do this now. You’re still healing.”
She slid her hand up to his face, not caring that Walker and Brandt were watching.
“I need to do this,” she whispered. “For Mary Rose. For Alice. For Leelee. For all of them.” Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Owen’s face softened slightly, his eyes searching hers. For a heartbeat, she thought he might continue to fight her on this, but then his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch. “Then I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not,” Walker said and rose from his chair. “Ghost, you walk in there, Hank will make up some bullshit excuse to arrest you just like he did to Jax this summer.”
Owen swore viciously, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Naomi felt his body coil tighter beside her, his stillness now ominous rather than calm. She squeezed his arm and waited until he met her gaze.
“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “And I’ll have my fox.” She touched the pendant at her throat.
His jaw worked as he struggled with his protective instincts. Finally, he nodded once, the movement so slight she might have missed it if she hadn’t been watching for it.
