Chapter 8 Instincts
Instincts
Sheriff Burke Scott
Sheriff Burke Scott stepped into his office just down from the visitor center, still thinking about the woman he’d met that morning—her cautious smile, the way she carried tension in her shoulders.
He dropped into his chair, dusty boots on the desk, and tried to shake her image loose.
The door swung open. In walked Tommy “Scout” Wilson—broad-shouldered, tall, and dark-haired, with a permanent stubble that gave him an edge.
Scout’s keen green eyes missed nothing. He carried an unspoken authority that shifted crowds.
Having grown up in the mountains, he knew every trail by heart.
Locals said he could find lost folks quicker than any dog.
His home sat high on Black Bear Ridge—perfect for a loner.
Their bond was forged in high school, tempered through college, and sealed at the academy. Now, they were inseparable.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing much. You?”
“Just served Bart Johnson that warrant.”
“Oh yeah?” Burke sat forward. “Any trouble?”
“Nope.” Scout’s mouth twitched. “He was about to bolt—bag waiting at the door—caught him in time.”
That was Scout—a master at reading signs hidden to others.
“Seen Sara?” Burke asked, picturing the sharp, fiery young deputy.
“Writing tickets on the 107, best I know.”
Burke grinned. “She still hiding that crush on you?”
Scout shrugged, half-grinning. “Smart woman. Lousy timing.”
Scout left. The office settled into its routine hum—the drone of the fan, rustling paperwork.
But Burke’s mind wandered, haunted by the woman’s guarded thank-you from earlier.
He told himself he was just checking in on Ned—but curiosity was getting the best of him.
Eventually, he set aside the paperwork and grabbed his keys.
Outside, late-afternoon heat clung to Main Street. The courthouse dome flashed gold in the waning light.
At the park, Ned whittled on the log-cabin porch, his VETERAN cap shading his eyes. Burke waved. Ned’s return nod was a silent blessing.
After patrolling the campsites, Burke parked near the office, cicadas filling the dusk. He climbed up.
“How are you, Ned?”
“Same as always. You?”
“No complaints.”
They sat together, woods buzzing softly around them.
“Mary Lou asked me to say hi,” Burke mentioned.
Ned grinned. “That right?”
“Says you owe her pecan pie,” Burke replied, amused.
Ned laughed. “She’s got a memory like a trap.”
Footsteps on gravel drew their attention. Darcy walked up, her smile wary yet warm.
Ned greeted her. “Afternoon, young lady.”
Burke stood. Darcy’s smile trembled before steadying. “Sheriff Scott,” she said. “We met at City Limits earlier.”
“Yes—good seeing you, Darcy. Settling in all right?”
“I am, thanks.”
Ned asked, “Can we help you?”
“Just wanted to check out the market.”
“Just holler if you need something,” Ned said with a grin.
Darcy smiled at the easy Southern drawl, glancing toward the wood line before pulling open the market door. She peeked inside first, then stepped in.
Ned waggled his eyebrows at Burke. Burke’s lips curved, amused despite himself.
Watching her move through the plate glass window, he caught the same quiet grace—and that same shadow of wariness. Pretty, he thought, but guarded.
Whatever followed her here looked like trouble. And it was already on his porch.