Scout stepped aside.
The stretcher rolled past him, wheels thumping over the threshold, and the emptiness it left behind felt louder than the sirens. At the end of the drive, the ambulance’s siren warbled to life, the rising wail cutting through the quiet around the cabin.
Burke snapped into command.
“McHan, get CSI out here now. Call K-9 and notify Dispatch—we need full search teams on standby.”
Kyle wiped a hand across his mouth. “I’m calling Raleigh HQ. Agent Quinn is one of ours—we need backup on the ground.”
Burke nodded. “Do it.”
Scout walked straight out onto the deck, the cold air slamming into him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He gripped the railing until his hands ached.Last night had felt like a beginning.
Now it felt like he’d stepped off something solid and missed the ground.
Footsteps behind him. Burke. Slow. Careful.
“Scout,” he said.
Scout shook his head, eyes locked on the tree line.
“She was here. She texted me when she got home. I should’ve?—”
“Don’t,” Burke said. “Don’t do that.”
Scout swallowed, breath coming rough.
The door creaked.
Kyle stepped out onto the deck.
He didn’t speak at first.
Just looked at Scout.
“She left your place at nine-thirty.”
It wasn’t a question.
Scout stiffened.
Burke shifted—subtle but deliberate—placing himself between them.
Scout’s voice came hollow, still aimed at the ridge.
“We just… started something.”
Burke didn’t look at Kyle. His thumb rubbed the pale ridge of an old scar on his knuckle, the way it did when the past got too close.
“I know.”
Scout turned, eyes dark with something dangerous.
“If one of those professors has her?—”
His voice shook, fury barely leashed.
“So help me God, Burke—if one of them has her?—”
