Scout resettled against the door.
Ten years.
Who waits that long for a ring?
“That tells you something,” he said instead.
“Yes,” Tessa replied.
The wipers beat a steady rhythm.
Silence stretched between them.
“Let’s stick to facts,” he said.
Tessa watched his profile for a second too long before looking back down at her notes.
Burke sat in the back seat, watching Scout’s shoulders — the tight line between his neck and jaw, the way his hands stayed locked at ten and two.
He knew that look.
Scout was a private man.
He’d worked with him long enough to recognize the edge — and long enough to know better than to press it.
At a stop sign, Scout reached across without looking and flipped the defrost toward her side of the windshield. The glass had started to fog where her breath hit it.
His arm brushed her sleeve.
Tessa noticed.
She didn’t say thank you.
28
After the Sinclair Interview
By the time Burke cleared the driveway, Tessa’s phone had buzzed half a dozen times—Kyle.
Where are you? We need to talk. I’m at Catch My Draft.
She ignored it.
Later, when the station lights dimmed, another message lit her screen.
I’m still here.
Then she grabbed her coat and keys.
Downtown Sylva — Early Evening
The storm had broken, leaving a low mist clinging to the mountains.
Christmas lights blinked along Main. Fewer people lingered on the sidewalks than there should’ve been this close to Christmas.
She paused in front of Two Cats and a Dog, the window display—a tiny Christmas tree trimmed with ribbon leashes and biscuits tied like ornaments. She pushed the door open, a brass bell chiming overhead.
Inside, she picked up a soft duck-shaped toy for Tallulah, then noticed a hand-tied bone stacked near the counter.
