Chapter 36
Scout — Cloud Gap Cabin
The cabin looked different in the late afternoon light. Scout killed the engine and sat for a moment, the hush of wind in the pines broken by the bright, wrong flutter of crime-scene tape. It all felt off—coming here again, with Tessa missing and Sara found in her place.
He climbed the steps, punched in the keypad code, and slipped inside.
Wine glass on the counter. Her tote by the table. Laptop closed. Tagged.
“Tallulah?” he called softly.
Silence.
He moved deeper into the living room. “Hey, sweetheart. It’s Scout.”
A faint rustle behind the couch—then a low, offended mrrrp.
He crouched, peering into shadow. Tallulah’s narrow face, eyes huge, ears half-flattened—every inch of her screaming uncertainty.
“There you are,” he murmured. “Hell of a night, huh?”
She watched him, sides fluttering with quick, shallow breaths.
Scout dropped to the floor, forearms braced. “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m just here to get you somewhere safe. She’d want that. So do I.”
He stretched one hand out, palm up. “Come on. I know you know my voice—caught you sniffing my boots, more than once.”
A wary meow.
A pinprick of anger—at how unfair this was, how helpless he felt—cut through him.
“You and me—we’re waiting on her to come home.”
After a long moment, Tallulah crept forward and sniffed his fingertips, her fur still bristling but the panic easing.
“That’s it,” he said softly. “Brave girl.”
One practiced motion—and he scooped her up like he’d done it a hundred times. She yowled, claws snagging his shirt, but didn’t fight.
“Easy,” he soothed, clutching her close. She smelled like Tessa—clean, faint perfume. The loss scraped raw.
He gathered her food tin, toys—including the duck Tessa bought—dishes, and the carrier by the door. She let out a final mewl as he eased her inside.
“It’s temporary,” he told her, like saying it could make it true. “Marylou’s gonna take care of you until—” He swallowed. “Until she’s home. I couldn’t leave you up there alone. Not after… all of this.”
Tallulah let out a softer yowl this time.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m not crazy about any of this either.”
It felt wrong, carrying pieces of Tessa’s life out while she was still missing. But leaving the cat here felt worse.
He buckled the carrier in and started the engine.
“Hang on, Tallulah. We’re gonna borrow some sunshine from town.”
Visitors Center — Afternoon
Scout pulled into the paved lot beside the visitors’ center and cut the engine. The place should’ve had at least a little life—late winter always brought a trickle of leaf-peepers, but today it sat nearly empty.
No tour buses. No families lining up for photos.
Only the painted footprints near the edge of the lot waited, aimed toward the courthouse on the hill, white stone rising through thinning mist. A perfect picture spot.
No one was taking it.
The silence felt deliberate. Like the town had pulled its breath in and was holding it.
Marylou pushed through the glass doors as soon as he stepped out of the truck.
“Scout,” she said, relief flickering and dying fast as her eyes dropped to the carrier. “Oh. That’s her kitty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Tallulah.”
She crouched without hesitation, cooing soft nonsense through the grate. “Well, aren’t you just the bravest little thing?” Then she looked up at him, searching his face. “Any news?”
He nodded once. “We’ve got leads.”
Marylou exhaled, hand pressing briefly to her chest. “The town’s on edge. Women especially. First Sara… now Tessa.” Her voice dropped. “Nobody’s letting their daughters walk alone. Folks are checking locks twice.”
Scout shifted his weight.
He felt it too.
Had since dawn.
Marylou straightened and smiled gently, like that might hold things together. “Kayla will keep Tallulah for now. My Yorkies don’t appreciate just how special cats are.” She took the carrier from him. “She’ll be loved. Promise.”
“Thank you,” he said, meaning more than just the cat.
Marylou’s eyes softened. “Bring her home,” she said quietly. “Both of them.”
He nodded, throat tight, and turned back toward the truck.
Scout — In the Truck
The door shut with a solid thunk. Scout sat there a moment, hands on the wheel, the visitors center reflected in the windshield—people moving, worried, waiting.
All of them women.
Mothers. Daughters. Friends.
He’d always thought Tessa was brilliant. And yes. Beautiful.
But it wasn’t until the storm that he’d understood how steady she was under pressure. How she moved through fear without letting it own her. The way she’d looked at him on that porch—like she’d already decided he was worth the risk.
Wanting her then—during the search for Sara—had filled him with a guilt he hadn’t known what to do with. Wanting something good while everything else was broken felt like a betrayal.
Now the cost of that hesitation sat heavy in his chest.
Sara—once sharp, laughing, unbreakable—now flinching at sounds.
Tessa gone. Taken.
And a town full of women locking their doors because someone decided fear was easier than strength.
His anger burned clean and bright.
Men who did this called it power.
It wasn’t.
It was fear dressed up as control.
Scout’s gaze went flint-cold.
God help whichever bastard had her—
because if Burke didn’t get there first, Scout would.