Page 77 of Silent Shadows

“I don’t know,” I say honestly.

Daisy is quiet beside me, then says, “Maybe that’s why this works.” She shrugs, picking at the edge of her sleeve.

I watch her carefully, unwilling to misinterpret her meaning again. “This?” I ask.

She looks up at me, her eyes pools of uncertain vulnerability. The charge between us is instant and strong. She looks away, flushing. "We're both so used to surviving behind these versions of ourselves. You with all your rules and research. Me with the jokes and the podcast voice. And I know I haven’t known you long, so I might be off base, but… it seems like we both find it easiest to set aside our personas when it’s just the two of us.”

The trail opens into a clearing overlooking the valley below, leaves starting to change color into vibrant oranges and reds that look even brighter against red rocks.

We stop and take it all in, awestruck. Our hands brush, sending goosebumps up my arm, but we keep our gazes locked on the valley.

The desert stretches endlessly beneath us, alive and fiery and impossibly wide.

And standing there beside Daisy in the early morning light, dread and desire collide in my body, and I can’t deny it anymore.

I don’t just like her. I like being understood by her. I don’t want to be colleagues, and I don’t want to be friends. I want more.

chapter

ten

DAISY

Thursday morning starts with coffee and avoidance.

I feel it the second I wake up. The Machine is quieter than usual. Not an unhappy quiet. Just tired, emotionally and physically.

Jax is editing footage with his headphones on but hasn’t made a single joke in ten minutes, which must mean he is in crisis. Maya is hunched over budget spreadsheets with the expression of a woman one bad receipt away from homicide. Taylor sits cross-legged on the dinette bench, sipping coffee and staring out the windshield like she’s trying to spiritually intimidate the desert into cooperating.

And Miles is pretending everything feels normal. I recognize it because I’ve been in the same mode since I got here.

He’s moving a little too efficiently. Talking a little too much during the morning briefing. Falling back on facts, maps, and field language to keep everyone focused on process rather than outcome. It’s weirdly endearing. Also deeply concerning for my emotional well-being.

Everyone in the Mystery Machine is avoiding the same thing: nothing has happened since the vocalization. It’s not out of the ordinary for the team, but they’re feeling the pressure of it because of my presence. I have the framework of the first episode, but not the hook to lead into the rest of the series. We need something.

We need visual confirmation, clean track, thermal signatures, or anything that holds up under scrutiny. Not just strange noises, weird patterns, and the kind of lingering tension that builds when a group of people wants something badly enough to start reading meaning into silence.

I sit on the floor in the center of it all with my recorder balanced beside my laptop while Miles pulls up terrain maps on the main monitor.

“Okay,” he says, clapping once. “New lead came in overnight from a ranger contact near the Coconino border. Possible vocalization reports near a canyon system east of the old fire roads.”

Taylor raises one eyebrow. “Possible possible?”

“Potentially possible.”

“That’s not a real category,” she says, annoyed.

“It is in my brain,” Miles replies.

Jax mutters, “God bless this weird little man,” without looking up from his footage.

Out of professional courtesy, Miles ignores him.

“We’ll head out in two groups,” he continues. “Jax and Taylor will get to the border and run aerial and perimeter sweeps first. Maya handles logging and comms.”

Taylor murmurs something, her voice so quiet we ask her to repeat it.

“What if it’s nothing again?”