SEND LOCATION.
The pin dropped.
Sent.
He locked the phone and slid it back beneath his chest.
And went still.
Sheriff Burke Scott — Home Evening
Burke had just thrown another log on the fire when his phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Not a call.
Not a text.
A LOCATION PIN.
From Scout Wilson.
Burke froze.
Rosie was up in one smooth motion, already moving toward the door.
Caitlin might’ve been her person now… but Rosie still knew what Burke was.
Scout wouldn’t send a pin unless he couldn’t talk.
Caitlin looked up from the sofa where she sat cross-legged with her laptop, glasses sliding down her nose. “Everything okay?”
Burke didn’t answer—not until he tapped the notification.
The map opened. The pin settled—right on Sinclair’s address.
Sinclair. Always calm. Always smiling. Always holding the cards.
Burke’s heartbeat dropped into a slow, heavy thud.
“Burke?” Caitlin pushed upright, worry sharpening her voice.
He exhaled once.
Controlled. Quiet.
Then he moved—pulling on his jeans. Grabbing his duty belt from the hook by the door and buckling it tight.
He drew his service weapon from the safe, holstered it, and pulled on his boots without fully sitting down.
“Cait,” he said, already moving, “stay here. Lock the door behind me.”
Her eyes widened. “Is it?—?”
“It’s Scout.”
That was all he had to say.
Rosie stood now, tail stiff, waiting.
