Keller.
Raines.
Sinclair.
Her pulse slowed into something sharper.
A decision.
Fine, she thought.
You want me to stop digging?
Watch me.
12
Jackson County Sheriff’s Office — Morning
Rain streaked the windows in thin, steady lines. The sheriff’s office hummed with the low rhythm of phones and printers.
Tessa set a folder on Burke’s desk and closed the door most of the way. Inside were a photo and a handwritten note, both pulled from Sara Parker’s apartment.
“I found these,” she said. “The photo was framed. The note was tucked under her pillow.”
Burke studied them. The photo showed Sara and Scout at a summer cookout, laughing, his arm slung casually across the back of her chair. The note was brief but personal—Sara’s handwriting, mentioning someone she trusted, someone she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Burke looked up. “Sara had a crush on Scout. Everyone knew that.”
Tessa didn’t interrupt. She let the silence sit for a beat—long enough to make Burke look at her again.
“There was something else,” she said carefully.
Burke’s eyes narrowed. “What.”
Tessa slid the map copy from Sara’s apartment out of the folder. The sticky note was still stuck to the corner in Sara’s block letters:
PREGNANT?
Burke went still.
For a second, the office felt smaller.
“That’s not mine,” Tessa said. “It was on her map. I don’t know if she meant herself or Lauren. But if Sara suspected it—or if she was…” She let the sentence trail off.
Burke dragged a hand down his face. “Sara never said a word to me.”
“Would she?” Tessa asked quietly.
His jaw worked once. “She would’ve told Caitlin. Or Mary Lou. Somebody.”
Burke’s gaze dropped to the note again. His voice came out lower. Rougher. “Jesus.”
Tessa didn’t press. She didn’t have to. The idea hung there on its own—heavy, ugly, impossible to ignore.
Then she said, “If there’s even a chance Scout was involved—” Burke’s head snapped up.
“No,” he said flatly.
