Page 99 of Knox

Sloane squeezed my fingers. “So his dad’s house was his base of operations?”

“Most recently, yes,” Nash said. “When they fought, he’d spend a night or two in the ranger station, then head back when the argument had cooled. His last known address is Oregon.”

“That’s the state on the VW bus plates,” Sloane whispered.

“Exactly,” Nash confirmed. “We’re running down every connection now. Hotels, gas stations, anywhere he might’ve stashed the latest victim. Clock’s ticking, especially if she’s somewhere outdoors.”

My jaw clenched. “Keep us posted.”

“Will do. And Knox?” Nash’s voice softened. “Nice work this week. Carolina Bay has been lucky to have you and your team with us.”

I ended the call and glanced at Sloane. Tears tracked down her cheeks, silent and devastating.

“That poor woman,” she whispered. “She’s still out there somewhere.”

“They’ll find her.” I brought her hand to my lips. “You did everything you could. You survived. You fought back. That’s what matters.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It’s everything.” I squeezed her hand.

I pulled into her driveway a short time later and immediately regretted it. Crime scene tape crossed the door. Evidence of the violence that occurred inside.

Sloane went rigid beside me.

“I can’t,” she said. Her voice was small and broken. “I can’t go in there. Not yet.”

I was already in reverse. “Come stay with me. For as long as you need.”

“Your house?” Sloane turned to look at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposing. You’re—” Everything. My future. The reason I’m staying in Carolina Bay. “I want you there. Stay until you feel safe going home. However long that takes.”

“What about my things?”

“We’ll get whatever you need later, when you’re ready. Clothes, toiletries, your laptop. You can make a list and send Maggie. Whatever makes you comfortable.” I reached for her hand again. “When you’re ready to go back, I’ll make sure the place is secure. Archer and Colton will install the glass-break sensors and night vision cameras before they finish their leave.”

Sloane’s eyes filled with fresh tears. “Thank you.”

Within days, my mother’s house became filled with Sloane’s presence in ways that made it feel more like home than it had since Mom’s death. Sloane’s laptop sat at the kitchen table where she worked on environmental reports. Her coffee mug stood beside mine in the sink. Her laughter echoed through rooms that had been silent too long.

Maggie stopped by with takeout one evening, grinning when she saw Sloane curled up on the couch with her work.

“Your mom would be delighted, you know?” Maggie said, following me into the kitchen.

“I do.”

“And she’d be proud of you. For staying. For fighting. For letting yourself have this.” She gestured around.

My eyes rose to the horizon through the kitchen window, wondering if Mom was out there watching. A smile curved my lips, because I knew she was, and that Maggie was right. She would be pleased.

“Speaking of people finding what they need….” She trailed off, picking at the edge of her thumbnail. “Can I ask you something? As someone who’s known Nash nearly as long as I have?”

“Of course.”

She glanced toward the living room, then lowered her voice. “Have you noticed anything off about him lately?”

I thought back to our interactions. Nash had been professional, focused, maybe working too hard. “He seems stressed. But he’s short-staffed with limited resources. That would stress anyone out.”