Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Tessa woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of voices downstairs.
For a moment, she didn't know where she was.
The ceiling was wrong, the light coming from the wrong direction, the mattress softer than she was used to.
Then the previous night came flooding back, and she closed her eyes against it.
The open cabinets. The notebook. Page after page of her movements, recorded in that precise, clinical handwriting.
She turned her head. Brian's side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool. He'd been up for a while.
Hank and Bree's guest room was painted a soft sage green, with white curtains that let in the early morning light. It was peaceful in a way that felt almost cruel, given the circumstances. She lay there for another minute, gathering herself, then pushed back the covers and got up.
She found her clothes where she'd left them on the chair, pulled them on, and ran her fingers through her hair. Good enough. She wasn't trying to impress anyone.
The stairs creaked under her feet as she descended. The voices grew clearer: Brian's low rumble, Hank's quieter responses, and a third voice she recognized after a moment. Diaz.
They were gathered in the kitchen, mugs in hand. Bree stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the easy competence of someone who'd done it a thousand times. She looked up when Tessa appeared in the doorway and offered a warm smile.
"There's coffee," Bree said. "And pancakes in about two minutes. You look like you could use both."
"Thank you." Tessa's voice came out rougher than she intended. She cleared her throat and crossed to the counter where the coffee pot sat. Brian caught her eye and reached out to squeeze her hand as she passed. The contact was brief but grounding.
"Dr. Callahan." Diaz nodded at her. The sergeant looked tired, dark circles under her eyes suggesting she hadn't slept much either. "I was just filling everyone in on what we've found."
"And?" Tessa wrapped her hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into her fingers.
Diaz set down her own coffee and pulled out her phone, scrolling to something. "The notebook we found was helpful. The handwriting didn't match Webb's. Different person entirely. We ran it through our databases and got a hit."
Tessa's stomach clenched. "Who?"
"Her name is Carla Reeves." Diaz turned the phone to show a photograph. A woman in her forties, brown hair pulled back, sharp features, eyes that looked flat even in a professional headshot. "She was a nurse at Chicago Memorial. Same hospital where you worked."
The name hit Tessa like a punch to the chest. She knew that face. She knew that name.
"Carla," she breathed. "She was on the trauma team. She was there the night..." She couldn't finish the sentence.
"The night Daniel Webb died," Diaz finished for her. "Marcus Webb's brother. The patient whose death started all of this."
Brian moved closer, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back. "You knew her?"
"I worked with her." Tessa's mind was racing, trying to reconcile the woman she remembered with the surveillance notebook, the break-in, the methodical violation of her home. "She was good. Efficient. A little cold, maybe, but I never thought..." She shook her head. "Why would she do this?"
"That's where it gets complicated." Diaz swiped to another document on her phone.
"After Daniel Webb died, there was an internal review.
Standard procedure for any death in the ER.
The review found some irregularities in the nursing notes.
Medications administered late, vitals not recorded on time.
Nothing that directly caused the death, but enough to raise questions. "
"I remember that review," Tessa said slowly. "They questioned all of us. But I was told it was just routine."
"It was routine until it wasn't." Diaz's expression was grim. "Carla Reeves was terminated two weeks after Daniel Webb's death. The official reason was 'failure to meet professional standards,' but the timing wasn't coincidental. She blamed you."
"Me?" Tessa's voice cracked. "I was the attending surgeon. I tried to save him. I did everything I could."
"I know." Diaz's tone softened slightly. "But grief doesn't follow logic. Carla Reeves and Marcus Webb both needed someone to blame. You were the face of that night, the surgeon who called the time of death. It didn't matter that you weren't responsible. It mattered that you were there."
Bree set a plate of pancakes on the table, her face tight with concern. "So this woman and the psychologist have been working together?"
"That's what it looks like." Diaz nodded. "We found communications between them dating back eight months. Emails, texts, and a shared cloud folder. They connected through an online grief support group, if you can believe it. Bonded over their shared obsession with Dr. Callahan."
"Eight months." Brian's voice was hard. "They've been planning this for eight months."
"At least. Webb handled the visible stalking, the intimidation, the direct contact.
Reeves stayed in the shadows, gathering information, tracking Dr. Callahan's movements, feeding everything to Webb.
" Diaz put her phone away. "When Webb got arrested, Reeves didn't stop.
If anything, she escalated. The break-in was her way of proving she could still reach you. "
Tessa sank into a chair at the table. Her legs didn't feel steady enough to hold her anymore. "Where is she now?"
"That's the problem." Diaz grimaced. "We don't know. She hasn't used her credit cards in three days. Her apartment in Chicago is empty; looks like she cleared it out recently. She could be anywhere."
"So she's still out there," Hank spoke for the first time, his voice flat. "Watching. Waiting."
"We've got a BOLO out on her vehicle and her photo. Every officer in the county knows her face. She won't be able to move without us knowing." Diaz looked at Tessa. "In the meantime, I'd recommend you don't go back to the cottage. Not until we've apprehended her."
"She can stay here," Bree said immediately. "Both of them. As long as they need."
Hank nodded. "The guest room's yours. And we've got eyes on the property. Between the shop and this place, there's always someone around."
Tessa looked around at these people who had opened their home to her without hesitation.
Bree, whom she'd known for only a few weeks, standing at the stove as if feeding people in crisis was just what you did.
Hank, quiet and steady, already calculating security measures.
Brian beside her, solid and warm, his hand still on her back.
"I don't want to put anyone else in danger," she said.
"You're not." Brian's voice left no room for argument. "This isn't up for debate."
"He's right." Diaz stood, gathering her things. "Isolation is what Reeves wants. She's been watching you long enough to know your patterns. Breaking those patterns, staying with people, being unpredictable, that's your best defense right now."
Tessa nodded slowly. She didn't like it, the feeling of being hunted, of needing protection. But she wasn't stupid. Going back to the cottage alone would be exactly what Carla Reeves was hoping for.
"Okay," she said. "We stay."
Diaz headed for the door, then paused. "One more thing.
We searched Webb's apartment and found more of those notebooks.
Years of them. Different targets over the years, not just you.
He's been doing this for a long time, finding people to stalk, fixating on them, then moving on when they leave or when he loses interest." She met Tessa's eyes.
"You're not his first victim, Dr. Callahan. But with any luck, you'll be his last."
The door closed behind her, and the kitchen fell silent.
Bree was the first to move. She set a plate of pancakes in front of Tessa and squeezed her shoulder. "Eat. You can't think straight on an empty stomach."
The pancakes were golden and perfect, dotted with blueberries. Tessa picked up her fork more to be polite than because she was hungry, but the first bite surprised her. They were good. Really good. She took another, and some of the tightness in her chest eased.
"Bree's pancakes have healing properties," Hank said, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "Scientifically proven."
"Anecdotally proven," Bree corrected. "The sample size is just this household."
"And everyone at the shop," Hank added. "And half the town when you do the charity breakfast."
"Fine. Large sample size. Still anecdotal." But Bree was smiling now, the tension in her shoulders easing.
Brian sat down beside Tessa, his own plate in hand. "How are you doing?"
"I don't know." She set down her fork, staring at the pancakes. "I keep thinking about Carla. We worked together for two years. She brought cupcakes to the nurses' station on birthdays. She stayed late when we were short-staffed. And the whole time, she was capable of this?"
"People hide things." Brian's voice was quiet. "We show the world what we want them to see. The rest stays buried until something brings it to the surface."
"What brought this to the surface was losing her job. Losing her identity." Tessa shook her head. "She was a good nurse. It was all she had. And when that was taken away, she needed someone to blame."
"That doesn't excuse what she's done."
"No. It doesn't." Tessa picked up her fork again. "But it helps me understand it. And maybe that's something."
They ate in silence for a while. Outside, the morning light was strengthening, burning off the mist that hung over the water. Through the kitchen window, Tessa could see the bay, the same copper-tinged water that had become so familiar over the past two months.
"I'm not leaving," she said suddenly.
Brian looked at her. "What?"
"Copper Moon. I'm not leaving." She met his eyes, then Hank's, then Bree's.
"I came here to heal. To figure out who I am without the hospital, without the pressure, without the fear.
And I've done that. I've found something here.
Someone." She reached for Brian's hand. "I'm not going to let Carla Reeves or Marcus Webb or anyone else take that away from me. "
"That's my girl," Brian said softly.
"Damn right," Bree added, raising her coffee mug in a mock toast. "Copper Moon keeps the people it wants. And it wants you."
Hank nodded, a rare smile breaking through his stoic expression. "Welcome to the family."
Tessa felt tears prick at her eyes, and for once, she didn't fight them. These people, this place, this impossible situation that had somehow led her to exactly where she needed to be. She'd come to Copper Moon running from her past. Now she was staying to build a future.
Whatever came next, she wouldn't face it alone.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, expecting Diaz with an update, but the number was unfamiliar. Local area code.
She answered. "Hello?"
Silence. Then a woman's voice, calm and cold: "Did you find my gift, Dr. Callahan?"
Tessa's blood turned to ice. Brian saw her face change and was on his feet instantly, moving close enough to hear.
"Carla." Tessa forced her voice to stay steady. "The police are looking for you."
"I know. They won't find me. Not until I'm ready." A pause. "You took everything from me. My job. My purpose. My life. Now I'm going to take everything from you."
"I didn't take anything from you. Daniel Webb died because his injuries were too severe. I tried to save him."
"You tried." Carla's laugh was brittle, hollow. "The great Dr. Callahan tried. And when you failed, you walked away. You kept your job. Your reputation. Your life. While the rest of us paid the price."
"Carla, listen to me. This isn't going to end the way you think. You need help. Let me—"
"I don't need your help." The cold voice sharpened into something ugly. "I need you to suffer. And you will. Every person you care about, every place you think is safe, I'm going to burn it all down. Just like you burned my life."
The line went dead.
Tessa lowered the phone slowly. Her hand was shaking.
"Call Diaz," Brian said. His voice was tight with barely controlled fury. "Now."
She nodded and dialed. As she waited for the sergeant to answer, she looked around the kitchen at the people who had become her family.
Bree's face was pale but determined. Hank was already moving toward the door, checking locks, assessing vulnerabilities.
Brian stood beside her like a wall, immovable.
Carla Reeves wanted to burn her life down.
She was about to find out just how hard that would be.