The next day, Izzy showed up at the coffee shop again. Evan followed when she left, trailing carefully through town, expecting her to wander Main Street. Instead, she drove past the edge of town, down a winding two-lane road.
He hung back far enough not to spook her, watching as she turned into a small blue house tucked under the trees. She disappeared inside.
“Perfect,” he thought.
Hours bled by. The house stayed quiet—no comings or goings. No friend arrived. No roommate. Certainly, no sign of Caitlin. Evan frowned. Where the hell was she staying? With who?
He was close, but the final piece was missing.
By evening, Main Street pulsed with life. The neon over Catch My Draft glowed like a beacon, laughter spilling through the doors.Inside, Darcy and Izzy perched at a sticky high-top, the air thick with fried food and old hops, ice clinking as thebartender shook up their drinks.“Burke’ll be here soon,” Darcy said, trying to sound light, though her eyes flicked to the door.
Izzy smirked. “You’re smitten. Admit it.”
Darcy laughed, nervy and bright.
At the bar, Evan sat with his back to the wall, beer in hand, posture relaxed. He looked like any other man killing time on a Friday night, but his eyes tracked the room—sharp and calculating. His smile was easy, his body loose, but once Darcy shifted uneasily, he noticed the way her gaze snagged on the threshold.
Izzy spotted him first. Her lips curved. “That’s him—the photographer from the trail.”
Before Darcy could answer, Izzy was already weaving through the crowd and slid onto the stool beside him, grin bright. “Twice in two days,” she teased. “People will think we planned it.”
Evan turned, feigning surprise, charm in place like armor. He stepped into their banter, polite and smooth. Izzy flagged the bartender. “Come meet my friend. You’ll like her.”
He followed—and then he saw her properly.
Darcy extended a hand politely. Evan took it, grip measured. As their palms met, something clicked inside him: not Darcy Nolan—Caitlin. Jason West’s wife. Weeks of threads and dead ends snapped into a single picture. She was right here—laughing, nervous, hiding in plain sight under a new name.
A cold, dangerous rush hit him—the hunt tightening into focus. The quarry was within reach.
He kept his expression easy, sliding back into the circle as if nothing had shifted. Izzy filled the space with chatter, and Darcy laughed at some joke, the nerves easing, the smile genuine. For a flicker of a moment, she looked almost safe.
Then the door opened.
Sheriff Burke Scott strode in, his gaze finding Darcy the way gravity finds the lowest point. His expression softened the second he saw her—protective, quietly possessive. He crossed the room, pulled up a chair, and brushed her hand in an intimate, public way.
Relief spread across Darcy’s face.
Izzy beamed. “Perfect timing, Sheriff.”
Burke gave a curt nod to Evan, then turned his attention back to Darcy.
Evan held his smile, but every alarm in his head screamed: the sheriff is a complication.
Minutes later he slipped into the night. The cool air bit at his face as he thumbed his phone, voice low when Paul answered.
“Paul—problem. The woman’s here. She’s gone by Darcy Nolan.”
Paul — Denver Detective
Paul leaned back in his dingy office chair, blinds casting stripes of shadow across his face. Evan’s words replayed in his ear:The wife’s cozying up to the local sheriff.Complicated. Dangerous. Profitable.
He picked up the phone and dialed Jason West’s private number. It rang once.
“Tell me you’ve got something,” Jason barked, tight as wire.
“We’ve found her,” Paul said calmly.
A silence stretched. “Where?”
