Chapter 51
Vigil
Burke Scott
The ride back to Oak Street was quiet, weighed down with exhaustion and ghosts.
Burke drove in silence, hands tight on the wheel, eyes fixed on the narrow mountain road.
Headlights carved pale arcs through the dark.
Behind him, Scout’s cruiser followed close, its beams sweeping across the ridges like watchful eyes.
Every bend felt oppressively familiar, the air thick with things unsaid.
In the rearview mirror, Caitlin’s face was a pale reflection—eyes wide, haunted.
He’d seen battered women before, helped them into shelters, stood in courtrooms with them.
But tonight, it was her—the woman who had been in his arms, who had laughed with him, trusted him.
And now he was driving her back to the place she’d been broken.
He wanted to keep driving—up into the timber, into the dark—and never stop. But he knew her. She wouldn’t run. The determination in her expression, the fight in her spirit, told him she’d rather walk back into the fire than let Jason win again.
In the back seat, Caitlin sat rigid. The window gave her nothing but her own reflection—pale, bruised, hollow-eyed.
Beside her, Izzy shifted stiffly, arm in a sling, ankle braced, body worn down.
Rosie wedged herself between them, panting softly, warm breath fogging the glass, reminding them she was there—ready.
Burke caught glimpses of Caitlin in the mirror—the way her gaze stayed fixed on the dark beyond the window, muscles tense as if she expected headlights to flare behind them. She was waiting for him, still bracing for the monster to return.
When Burke turned the final corner, she inhaled sharply. The cottage waited under the porch light—cornflower-blue siding and white shutters glowing too peacefully, like the violence inside had been scrubbed away.
Izzy reached across, squeezing her fingers. “We go in together,” she whispered.
Burke eased the truck to the curb. Scout’s cruiser rolled in behind, headlights fading as he cut the engine. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Burke opened his door. He rounded the truck and steadied both women as they climbed down.
Inside, the lamps glowed golden in the living room. Scout and Parker had cleaned up well—no splintered doorframe, no broken furniture. It looked untouched. Yet Caitlin halted at the threshold. Rosie nosed ahead, circling the room before returning to Caitlin’s shin with a low, uneasy whine.
“What if he comes back?” Caitlin’s voice cracked, eyes darting at shadows.
Burke’s hand settled firm on her shoulder. “Then he meets me first. And Rosie. And Scout. And half the county. Nothing gets through to you now.”
Scout leaned in the doorway, arms folded. “A week ago, I was parked down this street watching his silver Tacoma. Tonight, I’m in your driveway. You’re covered.”
Burke’s tone stayed even. “I’ve got room at my cabin. It’s solid—thick log walls, remote. No one’s getting through those. You’d be safe there.”
He saw the fear flicker in her eyes, but beneath it, the same defiance he’d seen before.
“No,” she said quietly. “We’re not running anymore. This is home. If we go, he wins.”
Izzy lifted her chin. “We stay.”
Burke’s eyes softened. “Then I stay too.”
Scout nodded once. “And I’ll be right outside. My truck’s not moving till sunup.”
The cottage breathed quietly as Burke helped them down the hall. He settled Izzy in the spare room—water on the nightstand, her bag at the foot of the bed. Then he guided Caitlin into her room.
“Rosie,” he said, pointing to the hall between doors, “watch.”
The shepherd obeyed, lowering into a sphinx—ears sharp, eyes fixed on both rooms.
Burke shook the pill bottle gently. “Doctors sent these. Help you rest.”
She hesitated, then nodded. He held the glass while she swallowed, then tucked the blanket around her shoulders. His hand brushed her temple.
“I’ll be right there on the couch. No one will ever harm you again, Darcy—” he caught himself, voice softening. “I mean Caitlin.”
He kissed her forehead. “No one can get to you. Jason’s boxed in. Deputies outside his cabin know every move he makes. Sleep for me.”
Tears shimmered, but she nodded. The tension eased—just a little.
“Rest easy,” he murmured, and slipped out, leaving the door cracked.
He stretched on the couch just down the hall, boots off, weapon within reach. Rosie’s ears twitched in the dark. Outside, Scout sat in the driveway, shotgun across his lap. The night pressed in.
Caitlin’s scream tore the quiet. Rosie leapt onto the bed, barking. Burke burst through the door, catching her shoulders.
“Cate! It’s me—it’s Burke. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
She collapsed into him, sobbing, Rosie pressing against her, licking her tears.
Scout hit the porch in three strides, hand on his weapon. “Burke?”
“We’re good!” Burke called back, holding Caitlin close. “Nightmare.”
Izzy was already in the hall, pale and shaken. Scout turned at once, lowering his weapon and steadying her.
“Easy,” he said gently, arm around her. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
“I never got to tell you… how grateful I am. When you followed me—I thought it was over. But I heard you call my name, and I knew you’d come. I’ll be grateful the rest of my life.”
He steadied her.
She squeezed his hand one last time, silent, steady, before letting go.
The house settled into uneasy stillness. Caitlin’s breathing slowed against her pillow. Izzy drifted back to sleep. Burke stretched out on the couch—but Rosie didn’t settle.
Her paws clicked across the floor as she padded to the mantle, nose working the air. She stopped. Tail stiff.
A low growl rolled from her chest, her nose pressed tight to the baseboard.
Burke stiffened. “What is it, girl?”
She pawed urgently at the trim. He dropped to his knees, fingers searching through dust and shadow. When his hand closed on something cold and metallic, he eased out a black transmitter—tiny, ominous, a new crack in their sense of safety.
Burke swallowed hard. “How the hell did we miss this?”
Scout appeared at his side, eyes locked on the device. “We didn’t. Someone put it here tonight.”
Burke pulled a small evidence pouch from his jacket, slid the transmitter inside, and sealed it with a firm snap.
“She doesn’t need to know. Not tonight.”
Rosie circled back to Caitlin’s door, lowering herself across the threshold—silent guardian once more.
Jason West
Jason West sat hunched in the sterile glow of a corporate-owned luxury cabin—the kind of place executives used for retreats.
Leather couches, granite counters, a sweeping valley view—but to him, it was nothing more than a cage.
The judge had ordered him to stay put until the next hearing, tethered to this godforsaken ridge.
Headphones clamped tight, he listened to the faint crackle of the bug; Burke’s voice drifted through—low, steady—promising Caitlin safety. Promising her a future.
Jason’s teeth ground until his temples throbbed. His wife. That badge-wearing bastard thought he could take what wasn’t his.
“You think you’ve won?” Jason muttered, voice low and even. “You can guard her, cage her, lie in her bed—but she’ll never be yours. She’s mine.”
Then Rosie’s sudden bark shattered the feed, static shrieking in his ears. Jason ripped the headphones off, fury boiling. The bug went dead in his hand. With a savage curse, he hurled the receiver against the stone fireplace, shards scattering across the polished floor.
Losing control wasn’t in his nature, but Caitlin was the exception. In the black glass of the window, his own grin stared back—cold, deliberate, hungry.
Burke Scott
In the living room, Burke poured whiskey into mismatched glasses. He handed one to Scout without a word.
The house creaked, Rosie circling once before flopping down. For a while, the only sound was the clink of glass.
“This isn’t over,” Burke said finally.
Scout swirled his drink, amber catching lamplight. “Not until Jason pays. We’ll make sure justice sticks.”
Burke nodded, shoulders set. “We will.”
They drank in quiet understanding—a vow spoken in silence, stronger than words.
Later, Scout slipped back outside, settling into his cruiser. Minutes later, headlights swept across the yard—Sara Parker’s unit slowing as she spotted him. She rolled down her window, voice steady but tired.
“You holding the line out here?”
“All night,” he said, stretching. “Not leaving till the sun comes up.”
Her gaze flicked toward the house. “Feels like the whole county’s been holding its breath. I’ve worked DV calls, Scout—but this one? A nightmare.”
Scout leaned an elbow on her doorframe. “You don’t know the half of it. We patched her house, circled deputies, and it still feels like he’s standing in the shadows.”
Sara’s grip tightened on the wheel. “I heard her scream. Half the street did. I wanted to come up, but I knew you had it.”
“I did,” he said quietly. “But I’ve never wanted to put a bullet in a man so bad.”
Her eyes held his—calm, steady. “Justice will come. Maybe not fast, but it will.
Scout gave a short nod. “Thanks for swinging by.”
She smiled faintly. “You call, I come.”
Her headlights swept away, taillights fading into the dark.
Scout lingered in the driveway, shotgun beside him, watching the restless shadows give way to the first thin light. He’d hold the line, whatever it took.