“Dispatch, this is Agent Quinn. I’ve had a break-in at my rental in Cloud Gap. No forced entry. I need techs and crime scene.”
Scout
Scout was halfway home when the call came.
“Break-in at Agent Quinn’s cabin.”
He didn’t ask questions.
Rain hammered the windshield as he whipped the truck around, gravel spitting from the tires. The mountain curves blurred past in dark, slick ribbons.
Someone had been inside her place.
His shoulders went rigid.
Blue-white lights pulsed through the fog when he reached the ridge. He slammed the door and took the steps two at a time.
Tessa stood on the deck, coat pulled tight, the storm tangling in her hair.
“You all right?”
“I’m fine.” Steady voice. Her fingers trembled once before she buried them in her pockets.
He hesitated—like there was something else he wanted to say—but swallowed it.
“Techs are on their way.”
“What’ve we got?”
She motioned toward the window table. The violet. The journal. The empty space.
“He took them. My notes.”
Something in Scout went still. Cold.
“Then he knows exactly where we are.”
He stepped inside, careful of the floor. The heater hummed. The basement door sat slightly ajar.
He didn’t like that.
Using a pen, he nudged the journal open.
March 25, 2023
The walls are cream, trimmed in white. A desk with an old Royal typewriter sits beneath a single lamp. There’s a bookshelf, a quilt on the bed, and a clock that never stops ticking. It’s a beautiful prison.
— Lauren Pierce
God help me.
Tessa’s voice dropped. “That’s her. Same hand as the diary Sara pulled from evidence. She was writing about this room before she disappeared.”
Her eyes tracked the words again.
“He didn’t put her underground. He built her a room. If that’s where he kept Lauren…” She swallowed. “It’s probably where he’s got Sara now.”
Scout watched her in the lamplight—fury under control, something more fragile beneath it.
