Chapter 39
The moment they stepped out of the station into the lot. Burke lifted two fingers to his mouth and gave a sharp whistle.
Deputy Luke Hale jogged over. “Yes, sir?”
Burke nodded toward Dr. Vivian Calder. “Hale, take Dr. Calder to the hospital. Relieve Jenkins. You stay on that door. No one enters Deputy Parker’s room except Dr. Calder, her mother, and her sister. Understood?”
“Yes, Sheriff.”
Calder gave a crisp nod. “I’ll need access the moment her doctor clears limited conversation.”
“You’ll have it,” Hale said. “This way, ma’am.”
He moved.
Burke turned to Scout. “Campus.”
They were halfway to the trucks when Burke spoke again.
“What?”
Scout didn’t look over. “Say it.”
“Tucker. The letter. You and Tessa.”
Scout exhaled slowly. “There’s nothing to explain.”
Burke waited.
Scout kept his eyes forward. “I wasn’t about to lay my life—or hers—out in front of a room full of agents. Not happening.”
“Scout.”
“I care about her,” he said quietly. “What happened on that mountain mattered. And I’m not letting this guy twist that into leverage.”
Burke studied him for a beat.
Then he nodded once. “Then let’s work.”
Professor Raines — Office Suite 214, JVU
Raines barely had time to rise before Burke was inside the office.
“Sit,” Tucker said.
Raines sat.
Scout’s gaze went to the corner.
The typewriter case.
Burke set the recorder down. “We’re updating interviews. Start again. Your contact with Quinn and Parker.”
“I barely knew Parker,” Raines snapped. “And Quinn consulted on departmental matters. That’s all.”
“You had feelings for her,” Scout said evenly. “You didn’t hide it well.”
Color crept up Raines’s neck.
Tucker stepped in. “Where were you the night Agent Quinn disappeared?”
“I went home. Graded papers. Alone.”
Denton checked his tablet. “Badge logs show your card leaving campus after six. No return scan.”
Raines opened his mouth. Closed it.
Scout nodded toward the case. “Tell us about the Royal.”
“It’s at my house.”
McHan spoke quietly. “Search team executed a warrant ten minutes ago. No typewriter found.”
Raines blinked. “That’s impossible. Someone must’ve taken it.”
“Convenient,” Denton said.
Burke folded his arms. “Let’s talk about the violet left on Agent Quinn’s table.”
Raines exploded. “I didn’t leave anything! I bought that plant months ago—another for my mother last week.”
“Will we find it there?” Burke asked.
Raines hesitated. “…Yes.”
An analyst stepped into the doorway.
“Update on Sinclair. Alibi confirmed for the night Deputy Parker disappeared. Dinner with girlfriend’s parents. Stayed overnight.”
He swiped his tablet.
“For the night Agent Quinn was taken—badge logs show Sinclair on campus until 22:14. Cameras confirm vehicle exit at 22:23. No reentry logged.”
“Travel time to the cabin?” Tucker asked.
“Thirty-eight minutes minimum,” McHan said.
“That narrows opportunity,” Tucker replied. “Doesn’t eliminate him.”
Raines went pale.
“Then it’s Keller,” he blurted. “You should be looking at Keller.”
Burke’s eyes narrowed. “Everyone’s got a name ready.”
Scout said quietly, “Funny. Keller’s students say you and Sinclair constantly tried to one-up each other. And that you hated Keller for how he treated Lauren.”
Raines looked away.
“Jealous?” Scout asked. “Of Keller? Or Sinclair?”
Raines snapped. “Keller sleeps with students. Sinclair parades around like he’s some genius. Meanwhile I’m the one doing real work.”
Burke clicked off the recorder. “You’re not leaving campus.”
They stepped into the hallway.
Students crossed the quad like nothing was happening.
Tucker checked his watch. “Keller.”
Scout was already moving.
Professor Keller — Office Suite 219
Burke didn’t knock.
Keller looked up, irritation flashing before he masked it. “Sheriff Scott, this is highly unprofessional—”
“Sit,” Burke said.
Keller hesitated.
Then obeyed.
Tucker stepped forward. “You worked with Lauren Pierce.”
“Yes. She was dedicated. Her disappearance was unfortunate.”
“You were sleeping with her,” Scout said.
Keller’s smile thinned. “I offered support. She’d been humiliated by Benton.”
“You were married,” Burke said.
“Separated.”
“Your wife was pregnant.”
Keller blinked. “That’s not relevant.”
“It is,” Tucker said. “Because Lauren threatened HR.”
Keller shot up. Denton stepped into his space.
“She couldn’t do that!” Keller shouted. “She said things out of anger—she didn’t know—”
“What’d she threaten first?” Scout asked quietly. “HR or your wife?”
Keller’s voice cracked. “She said she’d tell my wife after the ultrasound.”
Silence fell.
“You threaten her?” Burke asked.
A beat.
“Yes.”
He sagged. “I grabbed her arm. For a second. I let go.”
“Did she ever say she felt watched?” Tucker asked.
Keller hesitated.
“Yes.”
“By who?”
“I told her to talk to Sinclair.”
Scout’s head tilted slightly. “Why Sinclair?”
Keller rubbed his face. “He… had a way with students. He always said—”
Denton leaned in. “Said what?”
Keller exhaled, defeated.
“‘Writing is freedom.’ He said it all the time.”
Silence settled hard.
Scout didn’t move.
Not a muscle.
Burke’s gaze shifted to Tucker.
Tucker didn’t look away.
The phrase hung in the room like a fingerprint.t.
Keller blinked, too late realizing what he’d given them. “I don’t know what he meant by it—he just said it—”
Burke stepped closer.
“Professor Keller… Lauren Pierce is deceased.”
Keller’s face drained.
“Dead?”
The word cracked in his throat.
“No. That’s not—she was just—she was angry—she was dramatic—”
Then again. Softer.
“Dead?”
“Positive ID,” Burke said.
Keller sagged. “I didn’t kill her. I swear. I panicked. I deleted emails. Burned notes. That’s all.”
“Destroyed evidence,” Denton said.
Scout watched him carefully.
“He’s dirty,” Scout said once they were in the hallway. “But he’s not our guy.”
“But he knows something,” Burke said.
An analyst approached.
“Margot Holt cleared. Violets match oncology donations. No link to Quinn or the cabin.”
Tucker nodded once.
“Good.”
He looked down the hall.
“Sinclair.”
This time no one rushed.
They moved with purpose.
Across the quad, students moved between classes.
They had no idea how close this was getting.
Professor Sinclair — Faculty Studio
The door was already open.
Preston Sinclair stood beside his desk, sleeves rolled neatly to the forearm, a fountain pen resting between his fingers.
He did not look surprised.
“Sheriff Scott,” he said mildly. “Agent Tucker. Deputy Wilson.”
No irritation.
No stiffness.
Just acknowledgment.
Burke set the recorder down.
“We need to clarify your movements the night Agent Quinn disappeared.”
Sinclair nodded once. “Of course.”
He gestured to the chairs.
“You’re welcome to sit.”
He remained standing.
Scout watched him carefully.
“You were on campus until 22:14,” Tucker said.
“Yes.”
“Why so late?”
“Grading. End-of-semester revisions.”
“You drove directly home?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone see you?”
“My partner.”
“Margot Holt.”
“Yes.”
No pause. No shift in breathing.
Scout stepped in.
“You ever tell your students that writing is freedom?”
Sinclair’s gaze flicked to him.
A soft smile—not amused. Not defensive.
Reflective.
“Many times.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means authorship is agency.”
“You said it to Lauren Pierce.”
“Yes.”
“She’s dead.”
A beat.
“I heard,” he said quietly.
That’s it.
No flinch.
No “What?”
No crack in the voice.
Scout felt the absence of reaction more than he would have felt grief.
“She felt watched.”
Sinclair didn’t look away.
“Lauren felt many things,” he said evenly. “Humiliation. Abandonment. Confusion. She was very young.”
“You study them?” Scout asked.
“I mentor them.”
“You collect them?” Scout pushed.
The faintest pause.
Then:
“I invest in potential.”
Burke leaned in.
“Where were you between 22:23 and midnight?”
“At home.”
“You can prove that?”
“My partner can.”
Silence.
Sinclair’s gaze shifted—slowly—between each of them.
“You believe I staged something,” he said calmly. “You believe there’s narrative symmetry here.”
No one answered.
He continued.
“But symmetry is something investigators impose after the fact.”
He set the pen down.
“If you’d like to search my home again, you’re welcome to.”
Scout felt it then.
Not arrogance.
Not fear.
Control.
Total.
Unrushed.
Unrattled.
Tucker clicked off the recorder.
“For now,” he said.
Sinclair inclined his head.
“As you wish.”