“Okay,” she said. “We keep moving. Until we prove she left this ground, this is a live scene.”
Burke’s expression tightened. “Copy that.”
Tessa pointed toward the trailer. “Set that up as mobile. Radios, maps, intake. I want a clean log of every grid and every volunteer name.”
She turned to Scout. “And I want rumor control.”
Scout met her eyes. “Already working it.”
“Good,” she said. “Because once fear hits a town like this, it doesn’t just spread—it infects.”
Burke’s gaze stayed fixed on the woods.
Tessa followed his line of sight.
Burke’s voice went quieter. “And we keep the town steady.”
“We will,” Tessa said. “But we work like she’s alive—out here—until we can’t.”
The trailer door swung open. A deputy hauled out folding tables and pinned maps to the walls. Radios hissed under harsh light. SBI agents moved in and out with quiet urgency.
Inside, Tessa planted her hands on the map and looked at Burke and his team.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” she said. “You’re right—this looks like a grab.
“But until we have proof she left this ridge, protocol says we treat it as recoverable. That means we search every inch—alive, injured, or evidence.”
Her eyes swept the room, landing on Scout last.
“What we do in these first forty-eight hours decides whether we bring her home.”
Outside, the cold sharpened as the sun climbed. The town stayed behind the tape, waiting for instructions, clinging to hope like it was the only thing keeping them upright.
Scout stepped back to Sara’s cruiser, standing beside the empty driver’s seat like it was a grave he refused to accept.
For a second, a cold thought slid in—what if we don’t find her?
He crushed it.No.They’d find her. And they’d find whoever took her and put her badge on those bones.
Sylva didn’t let its people disappear.
Not without a fight.
6
The Watcher — Sara’s Empty Cruiser
Highway 73 Command Post — Saturday Morning
The cold had teeth.
It cut through coats and gloves, turning breath into smoke and making the road crews’ cones glitter with frost.
The whole town had come out anyway.
He stood with them.
Hands tucked in his pockets. A knit cap pulled low.
