“Connected?” the sheriff asked.
“I gave every deputy an old cold case back in early fall,” he added. “Told ’em to work one when they had downtime. Guess hers didn’t stay cold.”
“Guess not,” Tessa said.
She tucked the evidence bag inside her coat and glanced toward Main Street. City Limits Café sat a block away, windows glowing, people moving inside like the world was still normal.
She started the SUV.
Before she could shift into gear, a truck rolled to the curb beside her—quiet, deliberate.
Scout Wilson.
Window halfway down. His face looked carved out of fatigue.
“Find anything?” he asked.
Tessa nodded once. “A cold case she was working. Notes. Names. A campus map.”
Scout’s jaw tightened. “Get in.”
Tessa hesitated just long enough to register the command in his voice.
“We can talk on the way,” he added, already reaching across topush the passenger door open. “Medical examiner’s office. She’s ready for us.”
Tessa killed the ignition and stepped out.
She slid into the passenger seat, the cab warm, faintly smelling of leather and after-shave.
Scout put the truck in gear without another word.
Main Street slid past in familiar storefronts and steady faces—Sylva carrying on, unaware of what was coming.
Ahead, Asheville waited—with answers or more questions, she didn’t know yet.
10
Special Agent Tessa Quinn — On the Road to Asheville Earlier That Day
Scout drove like he did everything else—steady, contained, both hands on the wheel. The wipers kept time against the windshield. Pines blurred by on either side of the highway, broken now and then by a flash of pasture or an old barn leaning into weather.
Tessa sat in the passenger seat, the heater humming low. A country station murmured on the radio. Scout reached over and turned it down to almost nothing.
Silence settled in.
The space felt smaller than it should have.
His presence filled the cab the same way it filled a room—quiet, inevitable.
Tessa’s mind wouldn’t let go of the image from Sara’s apartment—the photo she’d bagged from under the pillow.
Sara and Scout at a department cookout. Shoulders touching. Both laughing, her head tipped toward him.
Friendly.
Maybe more.
And the note.
