Chapter 17
The Pine Ridge Police Department building looked considerably smaller than Kara had remembered.
Or maybe she just saw it differently now that she wasn't a courier for a crime boss.
The scuffed floors, a faded bulletin board near the entrance.
There was a low murmur of voices and ringing phones.
She stepped up to the front desk, forcing her shoulders to relax.
The receptionist looked up and paused.
Recognition flickered almost instantly. A face from high school, she realized—but her name stayed just out of grasp.
“Kara Nicholls,” the woman said. “Heard you were back.”
Kara gave a polite smile. “Yeah. Just for a bit.”
The woman studied her for a second longer than necessary, then nodded. “So, what can I help you with?”
“Is Deputy Givens in?”
A slight shift. “Chief Givens,” she corrected, almost automatically.
Right.
“Of course, Chief Givens,” Kara said smoothly. “Is he available?”
She picked up the phone, dialing without another word. Kara stood there, hands loosely clasped, acting as though she wasn’t listening intently.
“Kara Nicholls to see you, sir,” the woman said into the receiver. “Yes. George’s daughter.”
Kara’s jaw tensed slightly at that.
Another pause, then the receptionist nodded to herself. “Okay.”
She hung up and gestured toward a row of seats. “You can wait there. He’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Kara said politely.
She moved to sit. The chair harder and a lot less comfortable than it looked. Her gaze drifted around the room, catching the occasional glance from officers passing through.
She looked down at her hands, not exactly sure what she was going to ask.
Did you cover something up? Are you the reason things went wrong that day? Were you part of the cover-up?
She needed to be smarter than that, of course.
The door to the back opened.
Kara looked up as Chief Givens stepped out, scanning the room before his eyes landed on her.
He looked older. A little rounder through the middle, his uniform pulling slightly at the buttons.
His hair had thinned, more salt than pepper now, and what remained was receding fast. He wasn’t that much older than her.
“Ms. Nicholls,” he said, walking toward her. “What brings you in?”
“Can we talk in private?” she asked.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the receptionist leaning just slightly.
Givens followed her glance, then nodded. “Well then, follow me.”
He turned, leading her down the hallway. Kara hesitated for only a second before falling into step behind him.
His office was sizable, nearly double the size of hers at the firm.
Everything tidy and precisely in its place.
Various achievements lined the walls, but it was the sizable photograph of him and his father shaking hands in front of the police station that held her attention.
There was something almost ceremonial about it, as if his father hadn’t simply passed down the position, but the power that came with it.
Kara asked him about the case right away, hoping to catch him off guard.
“The person who murdered Kings and Kevin was never caught,” she said.
“You’d be correct. What’s this about?”
“I just had a few questions about the case. I’m a legal consultant, and I wanted to clear up a few things.”
“Who hired you?” he asked.
She ignored the question. “I was told the case had been closed. Do you know who made that decision?”
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled like he’d done this a hundred times before. “I barely remember the case myself,” he said. “The Chief handled it himself. It’s gone cold, but technically still open.”
Kara nodded. “I’d like to see the files,” she said.
“I’m afraid that's not possible,” he replied smoothly. “You’ll need to submit a formal request.”
Kara forced a polite smile. It sounded less like an answer and more like a dead end wrapped in a neat excuse.
He was hiding something—she could feel it. But she kept her expression neutral, playing along.
“Oh, right. Yes, of course,” she said lightly.
“How do I go about that? I want to follow the proper proceedings,” she said.
He seemed surprised by the question, as if he hadn’t expected her to push for more information.
“Officer Wyle at the front desk can assist you with that.”
“I’ll do it on my way out.”
She stood, smoothing her hands over her jeans. “Sorry to waste your time, Chief. Congratulations on the promotion.”
He hummed, almost dismissive, but his eyes lingered on her a second too long.
“Who sent you here?”
The question sat wrong. Kara kept her tone casual. “I’m not at liberty to disclose.”
She paused at the door, then turned back slightly. “One more thing—are you the one who approves the requests?”
Chief Daryl Givens nodded. “That’d be correct.”
The way he said it… he might as well have added, ‘and that’s why you’ll never see those files’. Kara held his gaze for a second longer.
At the front desk, she didn’t hesitate.
“Case files request form?” she asked.
The receptionist slid it over without a word. Kara filled it out carefully, her handwriting neat, deliberate. If he thought she’d drop it, he was wrong. She wanted it on record—wanted him to know she wasn’t backing down.
“Where’s the old Chief these days?” she asked casually as she wrote. The house looked abandoned when she drove by on the way in. “He was such a great help to me. I’d love to stop by and say hi.”
The receptionist didn’t look up at first. “He’s at the old folks’ home.”
Kara’s pen paused.
“He’s got dementia,” the woman added. “Sad to say.”
“Oh no.” Kara shook her head softly. “That’s an awful disease.”
She finished the form, sliding it back across the desk. “Thank you for your help.”
The receptionist nodded, already moving on.
That had been uneventful, but she learned a few things. Daryl had been a dead end. His father wouldn’t be. Would he remember her? Would he remember anything at all?
On the drive back, Kara slowed as she passed the Willow Creek Nursing Home.
It sat just off the road. A low, single-story building with trimmed hedges and a wraparound porch where a couple of residents sat in rocking chairs, staring out at nothing in particular.
Peaceful on the surface. She noticed the cameras first, one over the entrance, another angled toward the side lot.
Even the windows looked reinforced. Kara eased her foot off the gas, letting the car roll a little slower as she studied the place.
Signing in. Explaining who she was. Probably being watched the entire time. And for what? If he couldn’t remember…
Was it even worth it? Then again—on the off chance that he did remember something. It might be worth the risk.
Kara exhaled slowly.
Later that night, she had just started to tape up another box in the hallway when a knock echoed through the house. Not a friendly knock.
She tensed, the roll of tape still in her hand.
A glance out the front window showed nothing. Not a car in the driveway or any movement. Just the front yard, empty street, and the sidewalk. She opened the door cautiously.
No one was there.
At her feet, tucked just under the welcome mat, was an envelope. Just a blank white envelope, sealed shut.
Her heart thudded as she bent to pick it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, folded once.
In clean, all-capital letters—typed, not handwritten—were the words:
“ STAY QUIET OR STAY GONE.”
Her skin prickled. She stepped outside and looked around again. Still nothing. Just the faint rumbling of a generator several blocks away. She locked the door quickly and backed into the living room.
Someone was watching.
She thought of Uncle Richard, Elias’s battered face, Reece's implications about law enforcement. Kara sat down heavily on the couch, the note trembling in her hand.
Kars wasn’t just digging up old secrets—she was threatening to expose them.
It could only mean she was on the right trail.
? ? ?
Kara slid into a booth by the window, the one she used to claim on her breaks during double shifts. Her hand instinctively reached for the laminated menu, though she already knew what she’d order.
Timmy grinned widely when he spotted her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said. “I didn’t think we’d ever see you in here again.”
“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye again. I’m sticking around for a few more days,” she replied honestly. “Cheeseburger and fries. And Timmy, don’t skimp on the salt.”
He grinned. “Some things never change.”
She smiled, watching him scribble the order down and vanish behind the swinging kitchen doors.
Outside the large glass window, Main Street crawled by at its usual sleepy pace. Nothing about the town was urgent.
Her fingers toyed with the condensation on her glass of water.
She wasn’t really hungry, but she needed to be out of the house, somewhere public.
The ride over didn’t help. She kept glancing in the rearview mirror every few seconds, watching the same cars, then convincing herself they’d been there too long.
At one stoplight, she almost turned off just to test it, heart picking up at the thought. Maybe she was being paranoid.
The bell above the door jingled. Her eyes flicked up—just instinct—but it wasn’t anyone she recognized. Just a man passing through, tipping his hat at the counter waitress.
Safe. For now.
The waitress poured her more coffee without asking. “Do you want anything else?” she asked.
“No,” Kara replied. Her fingers curled around the warm mug, grounding herself and her thoughts. She was playing a dangerous game, one she wasn’t sure she could win, but couldn’t seem to walk away from either.
? ? ?
Kara sat on the edge of the couch for a long while, the note resting loosely between her fingers. The silence inside the house seemed to thicken around her, pressing in until every creak of the floorboards, every rustle in the walls, every chirp and croak outside seemed impossibly loud.
Kara read the note again.
No one needed to know about it yet. If she told Isaac, he’d insist she’d leave. Zoe would immediately panic, and the last thing she wanted was to make a scene.
Not until she figured it out.
She returned to the hallway, kneeling beside a half-sealed box marked “Books / Zo’s Room.” She pressed the tape down with more force than necessary, then grabbed another box, opened the linen closet, and started tossing in blankets, towels, and things no one had used in years.
The mechanical rhythm soothed her. Lift. Fold. Pack. Seal. Repeat. She told herself she wasn’t ignoring the threat. She was simply postponing the panic. She’d learned how to compartmentalize a long time ago.
It was how you survived men like George Nicholls.
As she packed, she hummed to herself, some old tune that comforted her. Kara paused, placing her hands at the base of her back, arching as far as she could to stretch out the stiffness in her back.
The front hallway was filled with taped-up boxes, labeled in her familiar Sharpie scrawl. To anyone else, it was just a woman cleaning out her childhood home.
But Kara knew better.
She was being watched, and whoever was watching? They’d made their first move.
Her phone buzzed, its vibration echoing through the mostly-empty house. She glanced at the screen. Isaac. Again.
She sighed, brushing packing tape off her fingers before answering.
“Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “You’re up early.”
“I never really went to sleep,” he admitted. His voice was tight, weary. “You didn’t text me back last night.”
“Yeah, sorry. I got caught up. Packing’s going well,” she lied, stepping around a pile of old books.
“Kara.” He paused. “How much longer are you going to stay there?”
“I don’t know. A day or two? I want to finish up at the and help Zo get everything into storage.”
“You said that two days ago.”
She leaned against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I know. It’s just that there’s a lot to go through.”
There was silence on the other end. “I’m worried about you,” he finally said.
“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly. “Really.”
“I’m so close to flying back down there and dragging you back here myself,” he said. “Don’t test me.”
She let out a quiet laugh, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Two more days, Isaac.”
“Kara, I’m serious.”
“I know.” Her voice softened. “Just give me a little more time. I promise I’ll be back soon.”
“I miss you,” he said.
“I miss you too.” And she did. But the words felt heavy, like they didn’t belong to her. Like someone else had said them. “I’ll call you tonight,” she added, already moving toward the next room. “Promise.”
“Be safe,” he said. “And don’t shut me out.”
But she already had.