“It’s temporary,” he told her, like saying it could make it true. “Marylou’s gonna take care of you until—” He swallowed. “Until she’s home. I couldn’t leave you up there alone. Not after… all of this.”
Tallulah let out a softer yowl this time.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m not crazy about any of this either.”
It felt wrong, carrying pieces of Tessa’s life out while she was still missing. But leaving the cat here felt worse.
He buckled the carrier in and started the engine.
“Hang on, Tallulah. We’re gonna borrow some sunshine from town.”
Visitors Center — Afternoon
Scout pulled into the paved lot beside the visitors’ center and cut the engine. The place should’ve had at least a little life—late winter always brought a trickle of leaf-peepers, but today it sat nearly empty.
No tour buses. No families lining up for photos.
Only the painted footprints near the edge of the lot waited, aimed toward the courthouse on the hill, white stone rising through thinning mist. A perfect picture spot.
No one was taking it.
The silence felt deliberate. Like the town had pulled its breath in and was holding it.
Marylou pushed through the glass doors as soon as he stepped out of the truck.
“Scout,” she said, relief flickering and dying fast as her eyes dropped to the carrier. “Oh. That’s her kitty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Tallulah.”
She crouched without hesitation, cooing soft nonsense through the grate. “Well, aren’t you just the bravest little thing?” Then she looked up at him, searching his face. “Any news?”
He nodded once. “We’ve got leads.”
Marylou exhaled, hand pressing briefly to her chest. “The town’s on edge. Women especially. First Sara… now Tessa.” Her voice dropped. “Nobody’s letting their daughters walk alone. Folks are checking locks twice.”
Scout shifted his weight.
He felt it too.
Had since dawn.
Marylou straightened and smiled gently, like that might hold things together. “Kayla will keep Tallulah for now. My Yorkies don’t appreciate just how special cats are.” She took the carrier from him. “She’ll be loved. Promise.”
“Thank you,” he said, meaning more than just the cat.
Marylou’s eyes softened. “Bring her home,” she said quietly. “Both of them.”
He nodded, throat tight, and turned back toward the truck.
Scout — In the Truck
The door shut with a solid thunk. Scout sat there a moment, hands on the wheel, the visitors center reflected in the windshield—people moving, worried, waiting.
All of them women.
Mothers. Daughters. Friends.
He’d always thought Tessa was brilliant. And yes. Beautiful.
