Chapter 3
Special Agent Tessa Quinn — On the Road To Sylva
Tessa’s wipers beat a steady rhythm across the windshield. Tallulah’s carrier sat belted in the passenger seat, the cat a quiet lump of fur and narrowed eyes, tail flicking once with every turn.
Burke’s call still echoed in her head. He’d woken her less than an hour ago.
Human remains. Badge found at the scene—Sara Parker’s.
She’d barely been gone a week—yet it felt longer. Long enough she should’ve stopped replaying Sylva in her head.
Not just Caitlin in the hospital bed or Burke’s face when she opened her eyes.
Scout Wilson, too.
He’d stood with her outside that remote cabin.
He’d watched over Caitlin’s Cottage.
And at the tree lighting, he’d made her laugh. For one or two brief, dangerous seconds, it had felt like something might be there if she ever let herself look too closely.
But the mountains were different.
Cases vanished up here. People did too.
That was why the State Bureau of Investigation existed.
The road curved again, the valley dropping away on her right, and her mind, traitor that it was, replayed the way Burke had looked at Caitlin the night they found her—like the whole town had slid back into place.
Big, steady sheriff suddenly just a man whose world had come home alive.
Tessa had watched from the edge of it all and felt something ache—sharp and quiet.
Not for rings or promises. Just for someone who wouldn’t flinch at the weight she carried.
Thanksgiving Night — Eight Days Earlier
The apartment had been dark except for the low city glow filtering through the blinds.
Tessa closed the door softly behind her. The sound of her keys landing on the counter echoed too loudly in the stillness. Her boots felt heavy, soaked with cold and mountain grit. She didn’t bother taking them off.
“Kyle?”
The bedroom door opened.
He stood there barefoot, T-shirt rumpled, expression drawn tight like he’d been holding the grudge in for hours.
“You didn’t call.”
“I texted,” she said evenly.
“After midnight.” His voice wasn’t raised, but the edge was there. “Thanksgiving, Tessa. My parents asked where you were. I told them you were out saving someone else’s holiday.”
Tessa stared at him for a beat, exhaustion pressing behind her eyes.
“I was working a case,” she said. “It’s what I do.”
She set her overnight bag down and loosened her hair tie. Dark brown waves fell past her shoulders.
“I’m asking you to show up,” he said.
“I do,” she shot back. “Just not on demand.”
Kyle gave a short laugh that didn’t sound amused.
“You outrank half the Bureau now—including me,” he said, the words landing with more bite than they should. “You get called in, the rest of us wait. You get the promotion, I shake your hand. You call that balance?”
There it was.
Not turkey. Not his parents.
The rank.
Tessa turned to face him fully. “You think I wanted to be above anyone? I worked for it. Same as you.”
“Then enjoy it,” he said, sharper now. “Because it cost you everything else.”
The words hit—not because she believed him, but because she’d heard the argument before.
“My job matters, Kyle,” she said quietly. “I’m good at it. It changes things.”
He glanced away. “Yeah. Always.”
She saw it then—the fight leaving his face, not replaced by understanding but something colder.
Resignation.
“I already put in for a transfer,” he said finally.
Tessa’s stomach dropped. “What?”
“Raleigh,” he said. “SBI headquarters. They’ll confirm next week.”
The words landed quiet but final.
“So that’s it,” she said.
Kyle picked up the duffel like it weighed nothing, like leaving her was just another choice he’d already filed away.
“I’m done, Tessa.”
She stared at the bag. “You packed.”
“I had to,” he snapped. “Because you don’t hear me unless it’s a crisis.”
Tessa’s throat tightened. “Kyle—”
“No.” He cut her off, stepping closer, eyes hard. “Listen to me. I don’t want a girlfriend who drops in like a visitor between cases. I want a wife.”
The word hit like a slap.
“A wife who’s here,” he continued, voice rough with anger. “A wife who wants a family. Kids. Someone who actually chooses me.”
Tessa went still. “I do choose you.”
Kyle laughed, bitter. “When? Between bodies? Between briefings?”
“That is not fair—”
“It’s reality.” His voice thinned, the control fraying. “I’m tired of being second place to your badge.”
Tessa’s eyes flashed. “My badge isn’t a hobby, Kyle. It’s my life’s work.”
“And I’m telling you,” he said, voice dropping, sharp and final, “if you want me, you stop doing this.”
Silence filled the space between them.
Tessa stared at him like she couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard.
“You want me to quit,” she said slowly.
“I want you to choose,” he snapped. “Us. A real life. Not this constant emergency where you get to be the hero and I’m just… waiting.”
Tessa’s hands curled at her sides.
“You don’t get to ask me to shrink,” she said, voice shaking with anger. “You don’t get to take everything I’ve built and call it selfish because it doesn’t revolve around you.”
Kyle’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s your answer.”
Tessa swallowed hard. “My answer is I won’t give up my career to make you feel bigger.”
For a beat, Kyle looked like he might back down.
Like he might say he didn’t mean it.
Instead he nodded once, cold.
“Then I’m gone.”
He moved toward the door, duffel in hand.
Tessa didn’t follow him.
She wouldn’t beg.
But the hurt still hit, sharp and deep, because part of her had wanted him to understand.
Kyle paused with his hand on the knob, like he was offering her one last chance to save him from his own pride.
“You’ll be fine, Quinn,” he said.
Then, quieter—meaner—
“You always land on your feet.”
And he walked out.
The latch clicked, and with it went the last familiar sound of their life together.
Tessa stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed door, unable to make her body move.
Then she crossed the apartment on instinct and locked it.
Deadbolt. Chain. Click. Click.
The second the last lock turned, something in her cracked.
Tessa went to the bedroom and threw herself face-down on the bed, boots still on, jacket still half-zipped, the pillow catching the sound she couldn’t stop—raw and broken and humiliating.
Not because she wanted him back.
Because she was tired.
Because she’d given everything she had to Sylva—every hour, every ounce of focus, every sharp edge of her mind—and she’d come home hoping for one soft place to land.
Instead, she’d walked straight into another fight she hadn’t asked for.
Tallulah hopped up beside her a moment later, silent as smoke. The cat padded across the comforter and pressed her warm body against Tessa’s ribs, rubbing her face against Tessa’s arm like she was trying to stitch her back together.
Tessa curled her fingers into the blanket, breathing hard.
“I’m fine,” she whispered into the pillow, the words coming out ragged. “I’m always fine.”
But her voice broke on the last word.
She turned her face, eyes wet, staring at the dim ceiling.
It always went like this.
Men loved the idea of her badge—until it made them feel small.
She’d never looked at Kyle and seen inferior.
Was this how it would always go?
The thought landed heavy—cold as mountain air.
If that was the life she got… fine.
But this was the last time she would let a man make her feel like her career didn’t matter.
The last time she’d apologize for saving someone else.
Tallulah bumped her forehead against Tessa’s shoulder again, insistent.
Tessa let out a shaky breath and managed the smallest smile.
“Yeah,” she murmured, voice low but steadier. “It’s just us.”
One Week Later — Friday Before Dawn
The week crawled by on muscle memory and caffeine—meetings, reports, cold hellos in the hallway, anything to keep her from thinking.
Just before dawn on Friday, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Once. Twice.
Sheriff Burke Scott.
Tessa stared at the screen for a beat, chest still tight, eyes still tired.
Good. Work. Something she could handle.
She straightened, wiped her face, and picked up.
“Quinn.” Her voice came out calm. Controlled. Professional.
“We’ve got a situation up in Sylva,” Burke said. “Human remains. Badge found at the scene—Sara Parker’s.”
Tessa’s blood went cold. Exhaustion vanished. Her mind snapped into order—scene control, perimeter, ME, K-9s, cell ping, timeline.
“Text me coordinates and scene status,” she said. “I’ll head out within the hour.”
“Appreciate it.”
The line went dead.
Tessa sat there one beat longer, the quiet stretching wide around her.
Then she stood. Grabbed her duffel. Field jacket. Tallulah’s carrier.
“You’re coming too, partner.”
Tallulah blinked once, unbothered.
Tessa brushed cat hair from her sleeve. “State agent, covered in fur. Very professional.”
She shoved a protein bar into her pocket. “Guess that’s breakfast.”
The door shut behind them.
Now
Back on Highway 74 West, fog thinned as the ridges opened enough to glimpse the valley below.
Somewhere out there lay Sylva—Burke, Caitlin, Scout Wilson… and now a deputy whose badge had been left beside a stranger’s bones.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed on the stretch of highway ahead.
No more women swallowed by mountains and bad men.
No more names turned into file numbers.
Hang on, Sara.
I’m not letting you disappear.