Chapter 38
North Carolina State Bureau of Investigation Arrives — Sheriff’s Department
Three black SUVs rolled into the lot. No lights. No sirens.
Conservative. Controlled. Intentional.
Deputies near the cruisers went quiet. Conversations cut off mid-sentence. One patrolman straightened. Another shoved his hands into his vest.
Denton and McHan stepped out in SBI jackets. Different posture now.
The first vehicle stopped. The rear door opened. A tall man stepped out.
“Sheriff Scott. Deputy Wilson. Michael Ray Tucker. SBI, Raleigh.”
Handshakes—firm. Professional. Brief.
Burke met Tucker’s grip without hesitation. No stiffness. No challenge.
“Appreciate you getting here quickly,” Burke said evenly. He meant it.
“Denton and McHan briefed me en route,” Tucker replied. “We’re current on Deputy Parker and Special Agent Quinn.”
Behind him, agents exited in coordinated motion. Gear cases. Tablets. Quiet efficiency.
County deputies watched.
Not hostile.
Protective.
A woman stepped forward, leather folio tucked under one arm.
“Dr. Vivian Calder. Forensic psychology.”
Burke nodded once. “Doctor.”
Tucker glanced toward the building.
“Let’s get inside. I want the full timeline and every piece of physical evidence collected so far.”
It wasn’t rude.
It wasn’t aggressive.
It wasn’t a request.
A few deputies shifted—the instinctive reaction to a state-level command tone landing in their house.
Burke didn’t react.
He knew why they were here.
More manpower. More reach.
A better chance of bringing Tessa home.
He held Tucker’s gaze for a beat—steady, unthreatened.
“Follow me.”
Deputies stepped aside. Not hurried.
But the room shifted.
They all felt it.
And they all looked to Burke.
He didn’t waver.
That was enough.
Ops Room — Briefing
Whiteboards active. Maps posted. Evidence logged.
The letter sat sealed in an evidence bag at the center of the table.
Burke was mid-brief when Tucker lifted a hand.
Silence fell.
Tucker picked up the bag and read the final lines aloud.
“P.S. Deputy Wilson—
Two women, both in love with you…
how do you do it?”
The words hung there.
Across the room, McHan’s eyes flicked toward Denton.
Denton didn’t smile.
But one corner of his mouth shifted—faint, restrained.
Tucker lowered the bag.
“Deputy Wilson. Clarification required.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any personal relationship with Deputy Parker or Special Agent Quinn?”
Scout didn’t hesitate.
“Deputy Parker trained under me. Professional relationship. Agent Quinn and I were caught in a blizzard under fire. That is the extent of my reportable involvement.”
Denton spoke from the perimeter, tone smooth.
“Given the offender’s fixation, it may be operationally sound to rotate Deputy Wilson off primary interviews pending review. The unsub is attempting emotional leverage.”
A few county deputies went still.
Burke didn’t wait.
“He stays.”
Silence.
You could feel shoulders square.
Tucker’s eyes moved between them.
Then he said it.
“Someone laid hands on an SBI agent in your county.”
The air shifted.
County deputies didn’t flinch.
They bristled at the implication.
Burke met Tucker’s eyes.
“You think I need that spelled out?”
Not confrontational.
Not submissive.
A reminder.
This is still his county.
Tucker didn’t blink.
“We’ll assume lead on Agent Quinn’s case effective immediately.”
No ego. Just authority.
“All interagency communication routes through my office.”
A few deputies exchanged glances.
Adjustment. Not rebellion.
“No press without clearance. Pull tower data on every device within a five-mile radius, 2100 to 0600.”
He looked at Burke.
“Deputy Parker remains county jurisdiction.”
A pause.
“Agent Quinn is state priority.”
That line landed differently.
Not taking.
Dividing responsibility.
Dr. Calder stepped forward.
“Removing Deputy Wilson reinforces offender manipulation. Recommend he remain operational, with oversight.”
Tucker considered.
Then:
“Deputy Wilson remains on point. All actions documented. Post-case review mandatory.”
“Yes, sir,” Scout said.
Burke gave one slow nod.
“We’re aligned.”
Not yielding.
Aligning.
Tucker set the evidence bag back on the table.
“Primary interview: Professor Raines.”
“Margot Holt second,” Burke added.
Tucker nodded once.
“Move.”
The room broke to assignments.
The pecking order had been established.
No one liked it.
Everyone understood it.
And no one mistook who was in charge of bringing her home.