Tessa held his stare. “I’m not accusing him. I’m doing protocol.”
Burke leaned forward, one hand braced on the desk. “Scout Wilson would not touch Sara Parker. Not like that. Not ever.”
The protectiveness in his voice wasn’t just for Scout.
It was for Sara.
Tessa nodded once. “I hope you’re right.”
Burke’s eyes stayed hard. “I know I’m right.”
Tessa hesitated, then added, “At the tree lighting last month, Parker gave me a look—jealous, almost. Figured it was one-sided. But this—” She tapped the note. “—it’s harder to ignore.”Burke shook his head once. “Scout never crossed that line. He trained her. He was her mentor. That’s not who he is.”
“I hope you’re right,” Tessa said. “But it’s my job to ask.”
Burke exhaled, controlled. “Make it quick.”
He paused, then added, voice low.
“And Quinn?”
Tessa looked up.
“Don’t let the bullpen smell blood.”
Tessa gave a single nod. “Understood.”
The door stood open a few inches.
Deputy Reardon passed by, eyes forward—catching just enough: Scout’s name, the wordinterview.
He slowed, leaning against a filing cabinet like he belonged there. “You don’t think he was?—”
Jenkins snorted from his desk. “Come on. Parker had eyes for him from day one.”
Jack Baker’s voice cut in sharp. “Enough.”
The room went quiet.
“We’ve got a deputy missing—probably taken—and this is where your heads are?” Baker said, low but carrying. “I don’t care who Agent Quinn questions or why. We do not turn on each other. We work the problem. We find Parker. Understood?”
Reardon shifted, caught out.
Jenkins looked away.
“Yes, sir,” Reardon muttered.
Baker nodded once. “Then get back to work.”
Across the room, Scout marked grid squares on a map, unaware of the conversation that had just died behind him.
Burke opened his office door. “Wilson. My office.”
Scout set the marker down and walked in without a word.
Scout remained standing.
Tessa sat across from him, notebook closed, pen clipped neatly to the spine. Burke stayed near the window, arms folded, the rain turning the glass into moving gray.
