Wrong time.
He shut it down and went back to the trees.
Burke wanted answers before Sylva got rumors.
Scout stayed here.
Holding Sara’s last known location like it was sacred ground.
Walking it again and again, searching for the detail they’d missed in the first sweep—the one thing that could tilt the whole case in a new direction.
He stepped out into the wet cold, boots sinking slightly into the soft shoulder. The air smelled like pine and damp earth and something faintly metallic from the cruiser’s engine heat.
He moved slowly, scanning.
The way he’d been trained.
The way he’d trained her.
And that thought—trained her—hit him hard.
Sara Parker had walked into their station two years ago with a chip on her shoulder and fire in her eyes, like she’d already survived something she didn’t want to name.
She’d come from a county east of Raleigh—a bigger department, rougher. She didn’t talk about it much. Just said,“They weren’t my people.”
Scout had heard enough to understand the rest.
She’d outshot half the men on quals and still been treated like she’d cheated.
She’d been called sweetheart.
Then one day she packed her locker, drove west until the mountains rose up, and started over.
Her first morning in Sylva, she’d walked through the front doors early, uniform pressed, freckles bright across her nose, hair pulled into a ponytail.
She stood straight.
Like she was bracing for impact.
And the station gave it to her.
A couple deputies looked her over like she was a novelty. Oneleaned back in his chair and said, "Sheriff hire a deputy or a beauty queen?"
Sara didn’t flinch.
But Scout saw it.
Burke’s office door was open. Burke watched from the doorway, eyes hard.
Then Burke looked at Scout.
A simple look.
Get in her corner.
Scout pushed off his desk and walked straight to her.
“Deputy Parker,” he said, calm as stone. “You got a notebook?”
