Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Colby ran through the events in that matter-of-fact tone he used when he was keeping himself in check, sticking to observable facts and chronological order.
Sabrina listened for any hint of doubt in Diaz's responses, any suggestion that the sergeant might be humoring them or dismissing the incident as minor.
She heard none.
Diaz walked the site with careful steps, avoiding the obvious paths the intruder had taken. She peered into the trailer without touching it, crouched near the boot prints and studied their depth and direction, and examined the cut twine with the same focused attention Colby had shown.
"Nothing taken," Diaz said finally, straightening from her crouch. "Just moved. Rearranged."
"That's what we see," Colby said.
Diaz turned to Sabrina, her dark eyes direct but not unkind. "You okay?"
"No," Sabrina said honestly. "But I'm upright and functional, so that's something."
Diaz's mouth twitched with something that might have been approval. "I appreciate honest answers." She tipped her chin toward the broken stake still clutched in Sabrina's hand. "That one new damage, or was it like that before?"
"We used it to mark the corner of the foundation," Sabrina said. "It was in the ground yesterday, driven in deep. The line was tight between it and the other stakes. Jason checked it himself before we left. Now it's this." She held up the useless piece of wood.
Diaz nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Who knows you're building out here? Who's aware of this project?"
Sabrina swallowed. "Kara Donnelly, obviously; she's handling the permits and zoning.
The county board reviewed my plans. Jason Keene is my contractor, and Colby's been helping with the labor.
Hank and Brian know because Colby told them.
Lila and Bree know because Kara can't keep anything from Bree for longer than about ten minutes.
" She paused, thinking. "The café regulars who overheard us talking about materials and timelines.
So basically, most of Copper Moon at this point. "
Diaz's brow rose slightly. "Fair point. Small towns are efficient gossip networks."
The sergeant walked back to her patrol car and retrieved a small evidence bag from somewhere in the trunk.
She returned to the trailer and carefully removed the dangling lock, handling it by the edges to preserve any prints.
She bagged it, tagged it, then took more photos of the hinge damage with her own phone.
"I'll have my guys come out and cast these boot prints," Diaz said, sealing the evidence bag. "In the meantime, I need you to do a couple of things for me."
"Name it," Sabrina said.
"Do not come out here alone," Diaz said, her voice carrying the weight of an order rather than a suggestion.
"Not early, not late, not at all. If you're on this land, you're with someone you trust. No exceptions.
I'm also going to have patrol add this road to their regular loop.
No promises we'll catch anything, but sometimes the presence of a marked car scares off bored idiots who are testing boundaries. "
"What about not-bored idiots?" Sabrina asked. "The ones who aren't just testing?"
"Those are my favorite kind," Diaz said, a hint of steel beneath the dry humor.
"I like a challenge." Her expression sobered.
"I'm not dismissing this, Sabrina. Could it be some random jerk flexing by creeping around an empty job site at night?
Sure. Happens more often than you'd think.
Could it be connected to what happened at Norman House?
Also sure. I'm not ruling anything out until I have evidence pointing one direction or the other. "
The ground seemed to tilt beneath Sabrina's feet. "So I'm not imagining the connection. You see it too."
"Correct," Diaz said. "You're not imagining it."
Colby's hand found the small of her back, steady and warm through the fabric of her shirt.
Sabrina blew out a slow breath, trying to find her center. "Okay."
Diaz's gaze shifted to Colby. "Keep her close."
"That's the plan," he said, and something in his voice made Sabrina's throat tighten.
Diaz's eyes moved between them, taking their measure, and something like approval flickered through her expression before she smoothed it away.
"Good. I'll call when I have anything worth reporting.
In the meantime, if you see so much as a candy wrapper out of place on this property, you call me directly.
Not Jason, not Hank, not anybody else. Me. Clear?"
"Clear," Sabrina said.
Diaz left in a spray of gravel, the patrol car's taillights disappearing around the curve of the road. The sound of the engine faded until the field went quiet again, just birdsong and the rustle of leaves and the pounding of Sabrina's own heart.
She stared at the place where the car had been and tried to slow her breathing. "I hate this."
"I know," Colby said.
She turned to face him, the stake still in her hand, the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders.
"It's happening again. First the inn, now this.
It feels like I'm standing in the middle of some twisted board game and someone keeps reaching down to flick my pieces off the table.
Every time I try to set something up, every time I start to build, something knocks it down. "
He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle against her temple. "You're not a piece on someone else's board."
"It feels like it," she said. "It feels like I don't have any control over what happens to me.
And you didn't sign up for this when you decided to help me build a cabin.
You signed up for lumber orders and me obsessing over cabinet hardware and paint colors.
Not cops and footprints and evidence bags. "
"I signed up for you," he said simply. "The rest is background noise."
Her throat tightened until swallowing hurt. "You say that like it's easy."
"It's not," he admitted. "But it's true."
She looked back at the cabin frame, the cut string, the broken stake, the trailer with its violated door. All of it pressed around her like walls closing in.
"I'm scared," she admitted, the words coming out raw and small.
"I don't like walking onto my own land and wondering who else has been here.
Who might be watching. Who might come back.
I finally let myself want something again, let myself believe I could build a new life out of the ashes of the old one, and now this. "
"And now someone's trying to scare you off," he said. "So we make it as hard as possible for them to do that. We don't give them what they want."
"How?" she asked.
"Step one," he said, holding up a finger. "You're going to stay at the cottage with me. Not your car, not a hotel, not some temporary arrangement. My place, where I can make sure you're safe. No argument."
"The cottage is your space," she protested weakly. "I've already invaded your kitchen and your couch and your entire routine."
He cut her off with a look that was equal parts exasperated and tender. "You're not invading anything. We both know that. This just means we quit pretending you might go somewhere else."
Heat climbed her neck that had nothing to do with fear.
She glanced down at her hands. They were trembling, just enough to make the stake wobble in her grip.
She let it drop to the ground and pressed her palms against his chest instead, needing the contact.
His T-shirt was soft and sun-warmed under her fingers, and beneath the fabric, his heartbeat thumped steady and strong.
"You shouldn't have to rearrange your entire life because mine is cursed," she said.
"Cursed?" he repeated, one eyebrow lifting. "That's a strong word."
"You don't call two major crimes in a year a pattern?" she asked.
"I call it a reason to keep you close," he said.
"I like having you under the same roof. I like knowing you made it back safe when you go to the store.
I like that you hum when you make tea and leave your coffee mug on the counter instead of putting it in the sink.
This isn't a hardship, Sabrina. This is me getting more of something I already want. "
Her breath hitched, catching somewhere between her ribs. "You want that."
"Yes," he said. Plain and simple and completely without decoration.
Something inside her eased and twisted at the same time, relief and fear tangled together in a knot she couldn't untie.
"What if this escalates?" she asked. "What if whoever did this decides to do more than cut string next time?
I can deal with being a target. I've had practice.
I don't know if I can deal with you being dragged into it too. "
He tipped his head slightly, his eyes holding hers with an intensity that made it hard to look away. "You think I'm not already in it?"
"I don't want you hurt," she said.
"That feeling's mutual," he said. "And let's be very clear about something. You're not the one putting me in danger. Whoever is behind this, whoever broke into that trailer and cut those lines, they're the problem. They're the ones making choices that have consequences. I'm making my own choice."
"What choice is that?" she asked, even though she already knew the shape of the answer.
"To stay," he said. "To stand in your half-built cabin and call it a future worth fighting for. To stand in your field with the cops and call it a problem we'll solve together. To look at this mess and decide it doesn't get to make your decisions for you."
Her eyes burned, pressure building behind them that she refused to let spill over. "Colby."