Burke promised himself—this would be the last time Jason West walked out smiling. Jason would never lay a hand on Caitlin again.
Chapter 50
Reunion
Sheriff Burke Scott
The ride to the hospital was quiet except for Rosie’s low whine from the back seat. Her head on the console; every mile pulled at his chest. Jason West was out on bail. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars and a signature had bought the devil another sunrise.
Hospital lights came into view. Rosie’s ears pricked.
“Yeah, girl,” Burke muttered. “We’re here.”
The fluorescent hallway smelled faintly of bleach and overbrewed coffee. A janitor pushed a mop in slow arcs. The head nurse intercepted them at the desk, hands on hips.
“Sheriff Scott, no animals on the second floor.”
“She’s certified. The victim knows her. She stays on lead.”
“That dog sheds.”
“So do half my deputies.”
The nurse sighed but waved them through.
At Caitlin’s door, Sara Parker stood guard, hand on her holster. “Room’s clear. She’s stable—sedated again about an hour ago.”
Burke nodded. Rosie’s nose lifted, then the shepherd shoved the door open with a thud.
Caitlin
The hiss of oxygen. The steady blip of a monitor. White walls. Bandaged wrists. She didn’t know where she was—then memory slammed in:the cabin. Jason. The nightgown.
Adrenaline punched up her spine. The machines beeped harder.
The door bumped, then burst. Rosie launched onto the bed, tail a blur. Fur in her face, wet with slobber, Caitlin laughed—a raw, surprised sound that filled the room.
“Rosie—no!” Burke’s voice followed, rough with relief. The shepherd ignored him, licking Caitlin’s cheek until she hiccuped.
Burke reached to pull her back, but when he heard that laugh, he stopped. For the first time in days, it cut through everything dark.
Then the nurse appeared in the doorway, arms folded.
“Sheriff, not on the bed. You know better.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Burke said evenly. “Rosie, off.”
The shepherd obeyed, hopping down but resting her muzzle on Caitlin’s leg as if to apologize.
The nurse stepped forward with a clear evidence bag. A white sticker marked the time and date. Inside, folded neatly, was the silk nightgown.
“Chain of custody,” she said. “For the Sheriff’s Office.”
Burke took it quietly, his expression hard. Caitlin turned her face to the wall, color draining from her cheeks.
“Please—just take it away.”
He did. The rustle of the plastic was sharp and too loud in the quiet room. He’d handled a hundred pieces of evidence in his life. None of them had ever felt this personal.
