Chapter 21
21
RIVER
I spot Megan, a flash of sleek dark brown hair and a blue summer dress against the brick backdrop of downtown.
She has a professional camera slung around her neck and a small backpack.
I recognize her immediately from the photos Emma showed us earlier and from catching her snooping around the burned cabin.
Megan Sloane . Chad’s girlfriend.
The woman who was supposedly just an innocent bystander in Emma’s nightmare.
“There,” I murmur to Zak, nodding toward where Megan’s talking to what looks like a shop owner outside a small boutique.
“That’s her.”
Detective Zak Morrison follows my gaze, his sharp hazel eyes immediately locking onto her.
We’ve worked a few cases together over the years, so it feels natural to head out with him whenever something we’ve reported gets passed on to him .
Zak’s good people—one of the few authorities I genuinely like grabbing beers with every now and then.
Met him three years ago during a warehouse fire that turned out to be insurance fraud, and we’ve been friends ever since.
Plus, he’s got a twisted sense of humor that matches mine when we’re not in full professional mode.
Glancing back at Megan, she has a brittle quality to her, as if she’s holding herself together through sheer willpower.
We approach her casually.
No point in spooking her into running before we get what we need.
“Excuse me, miss?” Zak says, his voice carrying that particular cop authority that immediately gets people’s attention.
She glances up from her interview, and I see the exact moment recognition flickers across her face.
Her dark brown eyes widen as they fix on me.
“Wait,” she says, her voice pitched higher than it should be.
“You’re... from the restaurant. The other night.”
So, she noticed me.
I hadn’t even registered her being there, seeing I was too busy trying not to smash Chad’s head through the table.
“Small world,” I say with a grin.
“Funny how you keep turning up in places connected to my Omega.”
Her face pales.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Detective Morrison,” Zak says smoothly, pulling out his badge.
“We’d like to ask you a few questions. ”
“About what?” She’s already taking a step backward.
“About the Pinecrest Cabin fire,” Zak continues.
“What do you know about it?”
“Just that it burned down,” she says too quickly.
I tilt my head, studying her with the kind of focus I usually reserve for analyzing burn patterns.
“So, did you find whatever you dropped on the front lawn of the cabin when I found you there?”
The color drains completely from her face.
“I think I need a lawyer.”
“That’s your right,” Zak agrees.
“But once you lawyer up, things get complicated. Makes you look guilty as hell. And you’re less likely to receive a bargaining deal from me. Right now, we’re just having a conversation. You help us understand what happened, and maybe we can help you avoid the worst of what’s heading your way.”
She blinks a lot, gnawing on the corner of her lower lip.
She must know she’s completely fucked either way.
“There’s a café across the street,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Can we... can we talk there?”
The café is one of those trendy places with exposed brick and furniture that resembles a vintage store explosion.
We claim a corner table, and I notice Zak positions himself so he can see the whole room while I keep an eye on the exits.
Megan clutches her backpack like it’s a shield, her camera forgotten on the table between us.
Up close, I can see the fine stress lines around her eyes and the way her hands shake slightly as she reaches for her water.
She looks like she’s about to bolt any second.
“I’ll help, okay?,” she says before Zak can even start.
“But I’m not going to get in trouble for this. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Zak sets down his pen carefully.
“I can’t promise you won’t face consequences, Megan. But cooperation can definitely lessen the severity of any charges. And if you’re covering for someone else, you need to ask yourself—would they do the same for you?”
She bites her lip, and I can practically see the wheels turning in her head.
“You were at the Pinecrest Cabin crime scene earlier in the week,” Zak continues.
“Why?”
“I can’t...” She shifts uncomfortably, wrapping her arms around herself.
“This is so fucked up.”
“Megan,” I say, letting steel creep into my voice.
“I watched you pick through burned debris like you were searching for something specific. We’re way past pretending you weren’t there.”
Her face crumples slightly.
“God, I never wanted to do this,” she whispers, and tears start forming in her eyes.
“But he made me. Fucking Chad said if I did this one thing, he’d... he’d share everything fifty-fifty with me. But really...” She takes a shuddering breath.
“Really, he threatened to leave me if I didn’t prove how much I loved him.”
My jaw tightens.
Another woman manipulated by that piece of shit.
The pattern is becoming crystal fucking clear, and it’s making my blood boil.
“What were you searching for?” Zak presses gently.
She hesitates, glancing between us nervously.
“A... a bag.”
“What kind?”
“A duffle bag,” she admits reluctantly.
The anger starts building in my chest like a wildfire.
Every instinct I have is screaming that this is about to get so much worse.
“Whose bag?” I need to hear her say it.
“Chad’s.” She won’t meet my eyes.
“Emma took it by mistake when she left for her vacation.”
“How did you get inside the cabin?” Zak asks.
“Technically, it wasn’t breaking in,” she says quickly, defensive.
“The place was rented under Chad’s name, and he gave me permission to enter. He gave me the access code.”
“And you have proof of him giving you the access code?” Zak asks.
She nods and pulls out her phone, showing him the conversation.
Zak quickly takes photos with his phone.
“What was so special about this duffle bag?” I ask, though I’m already dreading the answer.
She hesitates again, appearing genuinely distressed.
Zak leans forward slightly.
“Megan, remember what’s at stake for you here. Being charged and sued by the cabin owner for fire destruction, plus anything else that might come to light, we aren’t aware of yet. ”
“I had nothing to do with planning this!” she bursts out, eyes wide with fear.
“Chad only just told me about it recently. I didn’t even know what I was really doing!”
“Okay,” Zak says calmly.
“Go on.”
She takes a shaky breath.
“He said he had a signed contract he needed urgently from the bag. That Emma had taken it by accident, and he needed it back.”
“What sort of contract?” I ask.
Her face turns even paler.
“A management agreement. He said Emma had signed it, giving him full control over all her book royalties going forward.” Her voice drops to almost a whisper.
“He said once it was notarized, he’d be legally entitled to everything she earned from her writing. Forever.”
The rage that floods through me is so intense, I have to grip the edge of the table to keep from lunging across it.
“That’s bullshit. Emma would never sign something like that.”
“He said she did,” Megan insists, but there’s uncertainty in her voice now.
“How exactly did this alleged signing happen?” Zak asks.
Megan squirms in her seat.
“At a bar. He said she’d had a few drinks and was really relaxed. That she didn’t read it too carefully.”
The euphemism makes my skin crawl, and I feel my hands clench into fists under the table.
“He drugged her.”
“I don’t know!” Megan cries, genuine distress in her voice.
“Maybe? I don’t know what he did. He just said she was... cooperative when she signed it and had a witness sign to agree she wasn’t under duress.”
I want to put my fist through Chad’s face.
The thought of him slipping something into Emma’s drink, taking advantage of her, makes me see red.
“You knew Emma was staying at the cabin,” Zak states.
It’s not a question.
Megan nods reluctantly.
“Chad told me she might be there. He said to be really quiet, not to wake her up.”
“Walk us through exactly what happened,” Zak continues.
Megan takes a shuddering breath.
“I got there around midnight. Used the code Chad gave me. The house was dark and quiet.”
“Go on,” Chad encourages her.
“It was so dark, I could barely see anything. I found some candles in the living room and matches, so I lit one and carried it around to help me look for the bag.”
Zak and I exchange glances.
“You lit the candle?”
“Just to see,” she says defensively.
“I was trying not to wake up Emma while searching for the duffle bag. But then I heard footsteps upstairs, like Emma was getting up. I panicked.”
“What did you do?” Zak asks.
“I blew out the candle and ran,” she admits.
“Got in my car and drove away as fast as I could.”
“Without the bag,” I observe.
“I never found it,” she says miserably .
Zak pulls out his phone and shows her the crime scene photo of the melted candle with the fabric underneath.
“Your scarf?”
Her hand flies to her throat instinctively.
“I... I lost it that night.”
“This is yours, right?” Zak zooms in on the gold moth pattern.
Her face turns white as milk.
“Yes, but I don’t understand…”
“I’m guessing you were using the scarf to hold the candle,” Zak explains patiently.
“Maybe to avoid leaving fingerprints or because the glass was hot. Then, when you heard Emma moving around upstairs, you panicked. Set the candle down with the scarf still wrapped around it, maybe even knocked it over in your rush to get out.”
“I... shit.” She blinks rapidly, and I can practically see the pieces falling into place in her mind.
“I didn’t know. I would have put out the flame if I’d realized... Fuck, I didn’t do it on purpose. I didn’t go there to start a fire. I just wanted the damn bag for Chad.”
The casual way she talks about breaking into the place where Emma was sleeping makes my anger spike even higher.
“I thought I blew it out!” she protests, almost as an afterthought.
“But you’re not sure,” Zak presses.
“No,” she admits quietly.
“I was scared. I just ran.”
This woman nearly killed Emma over a fucking contract that probably wasn’t even legal .
“Let’s talk about Chad,” Zak says.
“He promised you fifty percent of Emma’s royalties for doing this?”
“I guess,” she says, tears starting to stream down her cheeks.
“I just... I thought he might be the one, you know? He said Emma was trying to destroy his career, that she’d stolen from him. I believed him.”
My hands are curled so tight, my knuckles are white.
The idea that this woman was so desperate for Chad’s approval that she’d risk Emma’s life makes me sick.
“Are you willing to testify against him?” Zak asks.
“Tell us exactly what he asked you to do and why?”
“Will that keep me from getting sued and charged?” she asks hopefully.
“That depends on a lot of factors,” Zak says, and I know he sometimes stretches the truth to scare someone into working with him.
“But cooperation goes a long way toward showing good faith.”
“I’ll testify,” she says quickly.
“I’ll tell you everything. It’s all his fault.”
“Where is he now?” I ask, trying to keep the violence out of my voice.
“I don’t know,” she admits.
“He said he had business to take care of this morning, and he would meet me in town a bit later.”
Zak closes his notebook and glances at Megan seriously.
“Here’s what happens next. You’re coming with me to the station to give an official statement. Everything you just told us, on the record.”
“And Emma?” Megan asks.
“What happens to her?”
“This should put an end to any legal issues she might have faced,” Zak confirms.
Relief floods through me, though it’s mixed with a healthy dose of rage at what Chad put Emma through.
We’re on our feet, leaving the café, when I spot the asshole.
Chad is standing across the street, partially hidden behind a parked SUV, but I recognize him immediately from the restaurant.
Same bland, corporate look, same entitled posture that screams middle management asshole, even from a distance.
His gaze finds Megan first, and I watch his face go through about five different emotions in rapid succession.
Then he stares at me, and the recognition is instant and mutual.
He runs.
“Zak!” I shout, already moving.
“River!” Zak calls, but I don’t hear him.
I’m running madly.
He’s fast for someone who probably spends most of his time behind a desk, but panic makes people sloppy.
He darts between parked cars, probably thinking the obstacles will slow me down.
Instead, I vault over a Honda Civic without breaking stride, which seems to panic him even more.
People move out of our way.
The stupid bastard cuts into an alley, and I’m furious, thundering behind him.
The alley is narrow, lined with dumpsters and loading docks that create perfect choke points.
Chad stumbles over some loose debris, and that’s all the opening I need.
I tackle him hard, driving my shoulder into his lower back and sending us both crashing to the asphalt.
He tries to roll away, but I’m already on top of him, with him facing me.
My first punch connects with his jaw, snapping his head to the side.
“You piece of shit,” I snarl, hitting him again.
“You drugged her.”
“Get off—” he starts, but I cut him off with another punch to his ribs.
“You tried to steal everything she worked for,” I continue, punctuating each word with another hit.
“Had your psychotic girlfriend nearly burn her alive.”
“She’s lying!” he gasps, blood running from his split lip.
“Whatever that bitch told you?—”
I hit him harder, rage flooding through me at his casual dismissal of both women he’d manipulated.
“Lying about what, exactly?” I demand.
Another punch, this time to his stomach.
He doubles over, gasping.
“River.” Zak’s voice cuts through my anger.
“That’s enough.”
I force myself to pull back, though every instinct screams at me to keep going until Chad stops moving entirely.
“He assaulted me!” Chad wheezes, trying to sit up.
“You saw him attack me! ”
“Didn’t see a thing,” Zak says calmly, hauling Chad to his feet and cuffing him.
“You must have tripped down those loading dock stairs over there. Dangerous things, concrete steps.”
“You can’t?—”
“Chad,” Zak interrupts.
“You’re coming into the station with me for questioning.”
I step back, flexing my bruised knuckles with deep satisfaction.
It’s not nearly enough payback for what he put Emma through, but seeing him with blood on his face is a pretty good start.
As Zak leads Chad toward his cruiser, where Megan is waiting in the back seat, I can’t help but grin.
Martin Cross, the cabin owner, is going to eat him alive in civil court.
I give my thanks to Zak, and he’s off.
Catching an Uber back to the watchtower gives me time to process everything.
Emma’s been torturing herself with guilt over an accident she didn’t cause while the real architect of this clusterfuck was planning to profit from her misery.
Not anymore.
I take the stairs to the watchtower two at a time as I spot the three of them up there, practically bouncing with anticipation.
“Holy shit, do I have news for you,” I announce as I burst through the door.
Emma glances up from where she’s curled up on the couch between Atlas and Levi, her eyes shadowed with worry .
“What is it?” she asks, and there’s so much desperate hope in her voice it makes my chest tight.
“Baby, you are completely, totally, one hundred percent not to blame for any of this cabin fire shit,” I tell her, crossing the room in quick strides.
“Chad set the whole thing up, and we’ve got his ass with the police.”
She launches herself at me before I even finish speaking, and I catch her easily, spinning her around as she wraps her arms and legs around me like I’m her personal lifeline.
“Tell me everything,” she demands against my neck, and I can feel her trembling with relief and residual fear.
“Oh, I’m going to,” I promise, setting her down but keeping my arms around her.
“But first, you should know that your ex-boyfriend is probably going to be very, very poor by the time Martin Cross gets done suing him.”
The relief and vindication on her face make every bruised knuckle worth it.
Levi and Atlas are grinning.
I guide her back to the couch where Atlas and Levi are waiting.
“Now, let me tell you the story of how we caught the world’s dumbest criminal mastermind...”