Caitlin touched his hand as he passed, warm and certain. “You’ve got this.”
Rosie sat beside Luke again—tail thumping once—as Burke, Scout, and Caitlin stepped into the ICU room.
Behind them, Luke took his post at the door, eyes settling on Sara’s silhouette through the glass.
He didn’t say a word.
He didn’t have to.
Burke had seen everything he needed to.
This wasn’t just a shift assignment anymore.
It was personal.
43
Sheriff’s Department – Operations Room
By the time Burke stepped into the ops room, Tucker had taken the head of the table.
The whiteboard was crowded—photos of Sara, Lauren Pierce, Tessa, the professors, the ridge map, the Writer’s Room sketch. Analysts worked laptops along the wall. Denton and McHan sat opposite each other with legal pads.
Scout sat near the front, coffee in hand, eyes fixed on the TV screen. Ruger lay at Baker’s feet.
Tucker tapped the remote.
“This is yesterday afternoon’s session with Parker. Dr. Calder cut it for what we need. We watch it once, then we move.”
Burke took the chair beside Scout.
On the screen, Dr. Calder sat opposite Sara.
“All right, Sara,” Calder said. “Facts first. Feelings later.”
Sara nodded.
“Describe the room.”
“Cream walls. White trim. Skylights only.”
“Did you see cameras?”
“No. But he was watching. Speaker behind the walls. Voice came from everywhere.”
“Ever see him?”
“No. I woke up and my hair was braided. I was being drugged. Food or water.”
“Describe the voice.”
“Male. Educated. Calm. Slightly distorted.”
“What did he say?”
“‘Good morning, Sara.’ Then: eat, rest, write. ‘The story is your freedom.’ Over and over.”
“Did he threaten you?”
