Chapter 26
Station Lot — Morning
The blizzard was done, but winter still had the mountain in a chokehold.
Snowbanks—dirty and jagged from the plows—walled the edges of the lot.
Reporters clustered near the station steps in heavy coats and hats—local paper, radio, one stringer from Asheville. Camera lights blinked faintly through the gray.
Scout, Tessa, and Burke crossed the lot together, shoulders hunched against the wind.
That’s when they heard it.
Kyle Denton’s voice carried over the scrape of boots and the rustle of jackets.
“The Sheriff’s Office and SBI are coordinating efforts to recover critical evidence before weather conditions deteriorate,” he said, tone official—practiced. “We’re confident—”
Renee Tate from the Jackson County Journal raised her mic.
“Agent Quinn—any comment on being snowed in two nights with Deputy Wilson?”
The younger brunette beside her snorted.
“Can’t blame her. I’d like to be snowed in with Scout Wilson for one night, much less two.”
Renee elbowed her. “Don’t print that,” she whispered—though her grin stayed.
Nobody in Sylva laughed. Not with Sara missing.
Tessa didn’t break stride. Scout’s face stayed unreadable. None of them said a word.
At the door, Burke shoved it open hard enough to rattle the frame. The three of them disappeared inside.
Operations Room — Minutes Later
Burke stormed through. Every head in the room snapped up.
He slapped a folder onto the table.
“Our case is Sara Parker,” he said. “That’s it. Not snowed-in agents, not blizzard survival stories, not whatever circus is happening on the station steps.”
He zeroed in on Denton.
“You want to explain why the press is out there talking about everything but the missing woman? Or why a certain NC Bureau agent is feeding them breadcrumbs to run wild with?”
Denton straightened. “They were going to ask the questions anyway. I figured it was better if the facts came from me.”
A few deputies snorted.
Burke leaned in, voice low—flat.
“You figured wrong. All you did was give them room to speculate.”
He didn’t blink.
“When you’re in my station, you follow my command.”
“With all due respect, Sheriff—”
“Apparently you need a task that suits your talent for talking,” Burke cut in. “Scout and Tessa are heading back up the ridge to retrieve evidence before it disappears.” He jabbed a finger toward the door. “You can stay down here and babysit the press.”
A deputy snickered. Another coughed into his sleeve.
Burke tossed the keys to Scout. He caught them one-handed.
“Get moving,” Burke said. “Forecast says we’re getting a warm-up. If rain hits that ridge, everything turns to mush.”
Denton held Burke’s stare. Said nothing.
Scout’s shoulder brushed Denton’s on the way out. He didn’t apologize.
When the door banged shut, the room finally relaxed.
Station Lot — Later
The reporters still lingered, microphones lowered but curiosity sharp. Snow dusted their shoulders and the tops of their cameras.
Tessa brushed past Kyle—until he caught her elbow.
“You’re really going back up there with that guy?”
She turned to face him.
“That guy is a deputy who almost got shot doing his job.”
“You spent two nights snowed in with him. You don’t see how that plays?”
Something in her snapped.
“You know what it looks like?” she said, voice tight. “It looks like I’m still doing my job while you’re worried about gossip.”
“Tess—”
“No.” Her voice cut clean. “There’s a deputy missing. A woman we swore to find. You either get in line or go back to Asheville. But grow up, Kyle. We don’t have time for this petty crap.”
She pulled free.
The way Scout looked at Kyle could have started a fire.
Burke muttered something about professionalism and cameras and climbed into the truck.
Ridge Trail—Late Afternoon
The snowmobile tore through drift and crust, engine snarling. Powder kicked up behind them in a white tail. The cold stung like needles.
Tessa leaned forward against the wind. Without thinking, she lowered her face close enough to Scout’s back to block the bite.
He felt it.
The warmth through layers.
The memory it carried.
He shifted forward a fraction, just enough to create distance.
Job first.
The ridge opened ahead, gray and buried.
He eased off the throttle. The engine died. The woods went still.
“Shooter was elevated,” he said. “Wind’s lighter along the crest.”
Tessa scanned the untouched white. “Storm rolled hard from the west. Anything light’s buried.”
“Maybe.”
They began the grid anyway.
Snow. Ice. Pine needles. Slow, deliberate sweeps. No wasted motion. No wasted words.
Their boots moved in parallel lines that never quite crossed.
Minutes dragged.
She straightened first. “We’re not going to find casings.”
He didn’t answer.
He was looking past the snow now.
Not at the surface.
At the terrain.
Thirty yards out. High ground. A narrow window between the trees.
She watched the shift happen in him — the way his posture changed when the mountain became a map instead of a landscape.
He moved toward a thick pine.
She followed.
The trunk bore a fresh wound—bark torn open, pale wood exposed beneath.
Scout leaned closer.
He pulled the pocketknife from his coat and flicked it open. Careful. Patient.
Something metallic flashed beneath the torn bark.
He eased it free.
A mangled bullet slid into his palm, copper jacket peeled back.
“.308,” he said quietly. “Rifle.”
Tessa stepped closer, eyes tracking the line of fire through the trees.
“Close.”
“And steady.”
He photographed it, logged coordinates, sealed it in an evidence bag.
Scout pulled his radio from his jacket.
“Burke. Wilson.”
Static. Then Burke’s voice: “Go ahead.”
“Snow’s too deep for casings. Recovered a deformed .308 from a pine. Logged coordinates.”
A pause.
“Copy,” Burke said. “Good work. Bring it in.”
Scout clipped the radio back onto his jacket.
Snow began drifting again, soft and quiet.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
She drew in a slow breath.
“About Kyle—”
“You don’t owe me anything,” he said, still watching the ridge.
Something flickered in her eyes. “I wasn’t offering.”
That landed.
He sealed the bag and slid it into his coat.
“Good.”
The word wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t kind either.
Just final.
She held his gaze for a second longer than necessary.
Then she looked away.
“Let’s get this back before the thaw hits.”
He nodded once.
They mounted the sled.
This time, when she leaned forward against the wind, he didn’t shift away.
But he didn’t reach back either.
Some things didn’t survive daylight.