Chapter 15
Big Red Barn — Afternoon
By the next afternoon, the long farmhouse table sat dead center beneath the string lights, no longer set for a party but for something far more deliberate—less celebration, more investigation.
Grant had sent Jose and one of the other hands up to the cabin that morning, hauling canvases and sketches down in careful trips until the barn looked more like a pop-up gallery than anything else.
Every inch of the table was covered.
Canvas after canvas lay carefully arranged, some propped upright, others laid flat beneath light cotton sheets to protect the paint. Charcoal sketches were arranged in ordered rows, separated by size, subject, and recurring locations.
They’d improvised labels—sticky notes tucked at the corners, dates guessed and penciled lightly, arrows drawn, connections marked.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was becoming something.
Izzy stood at one end of the table, arms folded, studying the spread.
“You see it, right?” she said.
Caitlin didn’t look up. She was bent over a cluster of sketches, her finger hovering over one, then another.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “She’s not just painting what’s in front of her.”
Izzy nodded.
“She’s returning to it.”
“The same vantage point,” Caitlin added. “Same line of sight. Same framing—just… different days. Different light.”
“Different details,” Izzy said.
Caitlin straightened slowly, scanning the table again, her curator brain fully engaged now. There was a faint, almost disbelieving light in her eyes, like she couldn’t quite believe what they were standing in the middle of.
“This isn’t random,” she said. “This is intentional.”
“She was tracking something.”
“This is insane,” Caitlin murmured, more to herself than to Izzy. “Do you understand how good this is?”
Izzy did. On a professional level, it was the kind of discovery people dreamed about. On a personal note, it felt like Clara had reached out of the past and grabbed both of them by the collar.
The barn door creaked open behind them.
Boots crossed the wood floor.
“Well,” Burke said, “I see I’m late to the operation.”
Caitlin glanced up, immediately softening.
“You’re right on time,” she said. “Come look at this.”
Burke walked up beside her, one hand resting automatically at her back as he leaned in over the table.
He took it in slowly.
The volume of it.
The organization.
The sheer amount of work.
“Damn,” he said under his breath. “Y’all weren’t kidding.”
Izzy pushed off the table.
“So?” she asked. “Did you find anything?”
Burke exhaled once, reaching into the folder tucked under his arm.
“Yeah,” he said. “I did.”
Both women went still.
Caitlin turned fully toward him. “Okay—what do we have?”
Burke set the folder down on a cleared corner of the table, careful not to disturb anything.
“Clara Vale,” he said. “Reported missing. Summer of ’99.”
Izzy’s stomach tightened.
“Who reported it?” she asked.
Burke flipped the first page.
“Sam Talley.”
Caitlin’s head came up. “Sam Talley?”
Burke nodded.
“Owned the land back then. Or part of it. Same ridge. Same area.”
Izzy glanced at Caitlin.
The letter.
Sam.
It all clicked a little deeper.
“What happened?” Caitlin asked.
Burke shrugged one shoulder.
“Not much,” he said. “Search was conducted. Statements taken. No signs of foul play. No evidence of a struggle. No body.”
He tapped the file lightly.
“Case got labeled a walkaway.”
Izzy frowned. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Caitlin shook her head immediately. “No.”
Burke gave her a look. “Cate—”
“No,” she repeated, more firmly. She gestured toward the table. “You don’t leave all of that behind. Not if you’re planning to walk away.”
Burke followed her gesture.
The canvases.
The sketches.
A life laid out in pieces.
“I’m just telling you what the file says,” he replied, even as the words sat wrong now that he was looking at the evidence spread in front of him.
Izzy stepped closer.
“What do you think?” she asked him.
Burke hesitated.
Just a second.
“I think,” he said carefully, “that twenty-seven years ago, with nothing solid to go on, that’s the call they made.”
Caitlin crossed her arms.
“Well, I think they were wrong,” Caitlin said.
“I figured you might say that.” Half a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Burke,” she said, stepping closer to him now, her tone shifting just enough to matter. “Look at this. Really look at it.”
He did.
Longer this time.
Slower.
“You’re telling me she just packed up and left?” Caitlin pressed. “And didn’t take a single one of these with her? Didn’t come back for anything?”
Burke didn’t answer right away.
Because the longer he looked, the less that version made sense. It hadn’t bothered him before—twenty-seven years and a closed file—but this didn’t look like someone who’d closed anything.
“Burke,” she said again, softer now. “Please.”
He glanced at her. Then at Izzy. Then back at the table.
“I’ll take another look at it,” he said finally. “That’s all I’m promising right now.”
Caitlin smiled immediately. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Izzy exhaled, tension easing a notch.
“Thank you,” she said.
Burke gave a small nod, closing the file.
Behind them, the barn door opened again.
Grant stepped in, hat low, eyes adjusting to the light as he took in the scene.
“All right,” he said, glancing between them and the table. “Y’all planning on solving a twenty-seven-year-old mystery today or—”
He paused, taking in the spread, something in his expression tightening for half a second.
“—or is this gonna take a minute?”
Caitlin grinned. “We’re just getting started.”
Grant shook his head once, a hint of a smile there.
“Well,” he said, “when you’re done saving the world, I was thinking steaks.”
Izzy looked up. “Steaks?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Figured we could fire up the grill. Weather’s too good not to.”
Caitlin lit up. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
Burke glanced at her. “You just ate lunch.”
“That was hours ago,” she said. “I’ve moved on.”
Grant smirked, looking over at Izzy.
“What do you think?”
Izzy glanced back at the table—the art, the sketches, the open file. Then back at him.
“Six?” she said.
“Six works,” Grant replied.
Caitlin clapped her hands once. “Perfect.”
Burke picked up the file again, tucking it under his arm.
“I’ll come back out later,” he said. “Take a few of these with me. See what I can dig up.”
Caitlin leaned into him briefly, satisfied.
“Good,” she said.
Grant turned toward the door.
“I’ll get things started,” he said. “Y’all don’t get too lost in here.”
Izzy watched him go.
Then looked back at the table.
“Just getting started,” she said.
And this time, they all knew it.