Chapter 47
No one said a word on the way back to the Brotherhood campus. Tires hummed against the asphalt, and the silence pressed heavier with every mile. Caleb rolled his shoulders once, then again, trying to ease the tightness crawling up his neck. It didn’t help.
Mia.
With so many thoughts crowding his mind, he welcomed the silence. He sent a thought out into the universe—a useless habit he couldn’t stop. Like she might somehow hear him.
“I’m coming, sweetheart.”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles ached. He hadn’t realized how hard he was gripping until the pain registered.
Then the image of the pig forced its way back in.
Who put it there?
Whoever did knew Mia’s routine. Knew her kitchen. And that meant they had a hand in her kidnapping. Could Roy have done it?
Nah. Caleb shook his head. Roy reacted. He didn’t plan. Roy wasn’t that careful. Which meant someone else had planted it.
But why?
That was the one thing he couldn’t wrap his head around.
Mia was a caterer. Not a politician or a whistleblower.
She didn’t have enemies. Not the kind that kidnapped you.
The questions stacked up until his head ached.
How did the pig ever get into her kitchen?
Who had access? And was it the same person behind the fire, the bad luck and all the other things that had happened?
By the time he turned onto the gravel drive heading to campus, his jaw was tight and his shoulders ached from holding himself together.
There were more cars than usual parked outside. They got out of the truck, and he heard dogs barking.
“Melissa’s running a training session,” Finn said.
That meant command central was locked down from the library side. They accessed it through Chase’s office instead.
A concealed door behind his desk opened into the inner operations room. Dex sat in front of a bank of computer screens, shoulders hunched, eyes bloodshot, like he hadn’t moved in hours.
“Any luck?” Caleb asked, already bracing himself.
“I tracked Roy’s truck as far as I could,” Dex replied. “He pulled off onto a back road with zero camera coverage. After that, he disappeared.”
“Where?” asked Finn.
Dex rattled off the road name and nearest intersection.
Disappointing didn’t even begin to cover it.
They stepped inside command central. The guys were still there. Chase looked up from his monitor.
“What did you find?” he asked.
Caleb filled him in about meeting Sabrina and Heather. About talking to Mia’s dad. Saying it out loud made it feel too real.
“Did Liam get back to you?” Caleb asked.
Chase nodded. “Sheriff’s department had no reports of accidents. He checked neighboring towns too. Nothing.”
Caleb swallowed. As twisted as it sounded, an accident would’ve been easier. Hospitals meant records. Paper trails. Hope.
Now they were back where they had started.
Except for the pig.
Finn stepped forward and carefully unrolled the cloth bundle on the table.
The ceramic pig stared jauntily up at them, with a ridiculous little smile painted on its face and a blue bow tie around its neck. Cute. Innocent. And completely out of place in command central.
“That was on her counter,” he said. “Right by the landline.
Finn tipped it carefully to expose the seam along the bottom.
“Fuck,” said Dex. He walked into the computer room and returned with a small toolkit and worked quickly. A soft click, then another. The base came loose.
Nestled inside was a compact transmitter.
Chase swore under his breath.
“Is it live?” Chase asked.
Dex studied the pig, then shook his head. “Not anymore. Battery’s dead. It ran until it burned itself out.”
Caleb’s chest tightened. “To where?”
Dex shook his head. “No relay. No encryption. One-way audio transmitter. Whoever planted it had to be close enough to listen. A mile or two, tops.”
Finn frowned. “So, not random?”
“No,” Dex said. “Personal.”
Finn stared at the pig again. “So the question is who and why.”
“We’ve talked to competitors,” said Caleb. “Sabrina Masters and another, both genuinely surprised to hear she had disappeared. Heather Pierce from Taste of Haywood had more context.”
“We’re asking the wrong thing,” Finn said.
Chase looked up. “Meaning?”
“It’s not who could do this,” Finn said. “It’s who had the most to lose if Mia succeeded.”
Caleb nodded slowly. “Sabrina was upset, sure. But she said it was part of business. Heather claimed Sabrina was the most vocal about losing business, but Dana …” He trailed off, frowning. That part still bothered him. “Dana stayed neutral. Sympathetic. Almost careful.”
No one spoke for a beat.
Then, Caleb added, “Mia’s father mentioned a friend from high school she kept in touch with.”
Another pause, just long enough for the room to lean in.
“A Dana Weston.”
The name sat there.
The door opened behind them.
“Weston?” Nate said.
Every head turned.
Nate stepped fully into the room, his expression already shifting. “What about Weston?”
Caleb met his eyes. “Dana Weston. You know her?”
Nate didn’t answer right away. He crossed his arms. His gaze flicked to the pig, then back to Caleb.
“No, I don’t know her,” he said slowly. “But if you’re saying her name in the same room as that thing, we’ve got a problem.”
“It’s not transmitting live anymore,” said Dex. “Battery died. It ran until it burned out.”
Finn frowned. “Anyone can buy a transmitter.”
“Sure,” Dex said. “But not everyone would know where to put it.”
Nate took the chair beside Titus and looked at Caleb. “Remember when we were at the Rusty Anchor and talking about the emergency storage lockers?”
Caleb frowned, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“They’re not public access,” Nate said. “Locations are mapped, but the keys, codes and maintenance records stayed inside the original program.”
“Weston,” Finn said slowly.
Nate nodded. “Emergency preparedness. FEMA contracts. Weston-Haywood Lake Coastal Resilience Project. Old money here.”
The pieces slammed together.
“Oh my God,” Caleb said. “Dana Cole.” He hesitated. “She must have changed her name?” He looked at Dex. Dex was already typing. “Give me a second.”
He glanced up, eyes narrowing. “Yeah. Weston was her maiden name. She changed it to Cole when she got married. Divorced, kept it. Same woman.”
The room went quiet.
“That explains access,” Finn said. “She grew up walking those sites with him.”
“And motive,” Chase added. “Personal.”
Nate crossed his arms, thinking. “Doesn’t mean she’s involved.”
“Agreed,” Finn said. “But it doesn’t clear her either.
Chase leaned back in his chair. “So, we talk to her.”
Nate nodded once. “Quietly.”
The decision was settled.
They weren’t accusing anyone. They weren’t charging in.
They were checking.
And sometimes, checking was all it took to crack everything wide open. By the time they left the room, both the Brotherhood and the sheriff’s department were quietly looking for Dana Cole.
Dana drove with both hands steady on the wheel, the road unfolding in familiar curves. No rush. No second-guessing.
The cabin turnoff came up fast. She took it without slowing.
Everything was lining up.
She’d meant to shut the receiver off before she left. Just in case. Not because she thought anyone was on to her. She wasn’t running. She’d be back soon enough, stepping right back into her life like nothing had changed.
She didn’t leave loose ends.
Most people were emotional. Reactive. People like that made mistakes. Dana didn’t.
The pig had done its job. It was useful information. Mia had been distracted, doubting herself. Exactly as planned.
Dana pulled into the narrow drive and cut the engine. The woods closed in around the cabin. No neighbors. No interruptions.
Perfect.
By the time anyone noticed she was gone, it would only look like a short absence. And by then, everything that mattered would already be settled.
Dana’s house sat at the end of a short, curving drive not far from downtown. Early afternoon sun filtered through the trees.
Caleb parked a house away. No urgency. Just a normal street on a normal day.
“Middle of the afternoon,” Finn said, scanning the houses nearby. “People are at work. Kids at school.”
“Which means she wouldn’t expect company,” Nate replied.
They walked up the drive together, unhurried. The place looked lived in. Curtains open. A porch chair angled toward the yard. Nothing rushed. Nothing wrong.
A discreet sign was staked near the walkway.
LIVE OAK CATERING
Private Catering—by appointment
“She runs it out of her house,” Finn murmured.
Caleb stepped onto the porch and knocked.
They waited.
Nothing.
No footsteps. No music. Nothing.
Caleb pulled out his phone, scrolling. “Cell’s going straight to voicemail.”
That sealed it.
He crouched, pulled out a small, slim lock pick, and with a soft click, the door unlocked.
Inside, the house smelled faintly of cleaner and something sweet. Dex was already scanning outlets, cords, the places people never thought to look. “If she listened from here, the receiver won’t be far.”
They moved through the house without speaking.
“In here,” Dex said from a small office.
The receiver sat tucked behind a printer, plugged into a power strip.
Caleb’s jaw tightened. So close, all that time.
“She didn’t think we’d get this far,” Nate said.
“No,” Caleb replied. “She thought she’d been thorough.”
“We document everything,” Nate said. “Photos, placement, times. Then we lock up exactly as we found it.” He crouched beside the desk and pointed. “But we’re not leaving that here.”
Caleb nodded. If it disappeared later, they’d have nothing but suspicion.
Nate photographed the setup. The outlet. The cord. The angle behind the printer. Then, he pulled out a rag to unplug the receiver and then sealed it in an evidence bag.
“Make sure everything is the way we found it,” said Finn. “She shouldn’t know we were here.”
Caleb nodded. Proof mattered. Accusations didn’t. Not yet.
They moved carefully. When they stepped back outside, the house looked the same as when they had arrived.
The afternoon sun still warmed the street. A neighbor’s lawn sprinkler clicked on down the block. Life carried on as if nothing was wrong.
Caleb shut the truck door and exhaled slowly.
They had answers. Just not the kind they could use yet.
He started the engine and pulled away from the curb. The house disappeared in the rearview mirror, neat and untouched, like it had nothing to hide. That was the part he didn’t trust.
No new leads. No forward motion. Just waiting.
He exhaled, slow and controlled. Waiting without a plan was a different kind of threat.