“Lauren Pierce,” he said. “Cold case.”
Tessa nodded. “Sara pulled it in October. Worked it off and on. Notes, maps, names—faculty connections.”
Scout swallowed. “She never told me that.”
“She wasn’t supposed to,” Burke said, voice low. “I gave each deputy a cold case this fall. Told ’em to work one when they had downtime. Quiet.”
Tessa met Burke’s eyes. “This one didn’t stay quiet.”
Burke’s stare went flat. “No.”
Scout looked between them, something hard settling in his face. “So she was digging… and now she’s gone.”
Tessa nodded once. “And somebody staged a message to make sure we looked in the right direction.”
The cold in the lot felt sharper.
Burke turned toward the lab doors like the decision had already been made. “Alright.”
Scout’s voice came out rough. “Let’s go talk to Cade.”
They moved in together—three sets of boots on concrete, one old name between them, and the sickening sense that whatever Sara touched back in October had finally reached back.
Inside, the air was too clean—sterile in a way that clung toeverything. The building hummed with hard-edged efficiency: white walls, metal doors, the faint sting of disinfectant no ventilation ever quite erased.
Dr. Evelyn Cade, the county medical examiner, waited just inside the lab doors, parka half unzipped, Army medic dog tags glinting against her throat. Her hair was pulled back in a practical knot streaked with gray—the look of a woman who’d seen worse mornings and didn’t waste time pretending otherwise. A coffee stain marked her sleeve like a badge of survival.
“Well, look at that,” she said, lips quirking. “The mountain cavalry rides again. Thought maybe you three forgot how to read a phone.”
Burke smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Morning to you too, Cade.”
“Don’t sweet-talk me,” she shot back. “You’re not bringing muffins, and I haven’t had a day off since dial-up internet.”
Scout huffed a low laugh. Tessa’s mouth twitched. Cade was rough around the edges, but no one doubted her competence. She’d seen more bodies than anyone in the county and had the scars—inside and out—to prove it.
Cade turned, leading the way with the rolling gait of someone who’d spent half her life in boots.
“Come on,” she said, pushing through the double doors. “Let’s ruin your lunch.”
The autopsy bay was bright, sterile, and too cold. The skeletal remains from Miller’s Ridge lay arranged neatly on a stainless table, each bone tagged and aligned with careful precision. An empty body bag sat folded on a gurney nearby, dark and waiting.
Cade pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and lifted her clipboard. When she spoke again, the easy sarcasm was gone.
“Dental records confirmed it this morning,” she said. “The remains belong to Lauren Pierce.”
The chill in the room had nothing to do with the morgue.
For a second, nobody breathed.
Tessa’s fingers found the dent in her badge, worrying it like a rosary. She stared at the tagged bones—femur, radius, the careful white arc of a skull—and silently promised Sara she wouldn’t let go.
Scout stood rigid beside her, hands fisted at his sides, eyes fixed on the table, his silence louder than words.
Burke turned to the window and braced one hand against the cold glass, breath fogging a faint circle as he stared out at the gray mountains.
Even Cade said nothing.
Somewhere, the lab’s clock ticked on—but for them, the world had stopped.
