The cruiser idled a moment longer before easing away, headlights carving a path through the rain-soaked dark.
Behind them, a single light still glowed on the ridge—proof that even in darkness, someone was still awake.
Chapter 54
Boundaries
Caitlin West
The courthouse loomed in the dark, brick walls washed pale beneath the glow of streetlamps. The flag snapped in the cold mountain wind—a lonely sound against the hush of Main Street. Burke’s truck idled at the curb until Caitlin drew a steadying breath.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
She nodded. The building that once felt routine now looked foreign.
Burke unlocked the side door with his master key and pushed it open. The museum wing was dark and still. Shadows stretched across the old wood floors.
“I thought I was ready,” Caitlin whispered. Her voice carried too easily through the empty lobby.
Burke’s hand found the small of her back, warm and steady. “That’s why we came tonight. No people. No noise. Just us. Next time you’re here, it’ll be for sentencing. Different reason. Different ground.”
They walked slowly through the exhibit hall, footsteps echoing off glass and plaster. A draft slid down from thestairwell, brushing her neck like a phantom hand. She pulled her sweater tighter.
“Feels different now,” she said. “Like everything’s waiting for something to happen.”
Burke stopped at the base of the rotunda, meeting her eyes. “Cate, you’re safer here than anywhere else in this county. Cameras in every corridor, bailiffs at every door—and me, driving you in and out.”
Relief and fear twisted together. “You promise?”
“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” he said. “This one I can.”
For the first time, she almost believed him.
He brushed a kiss against her forehead, lingering long enough for her to breathe.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured.
Back at the cottage, Rosie curled at Caitlin’s feet while she rinsed a mug in the sink. Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Unknown caller.
It buzzed again—longer this time—then stopped. The voicemail icon lit.
She stared at it, anticipation curling in her chest, then pressed play on speaker.
A man’s voice, smooth and composed, as if he were reading from a script only he believed:
“Caitlin, I forgive you. It’s time to come home and stop all this nonsense. You know we belong together—it’s time to start our family. Say the word, and I’ll have the plane waiting. I won’t hold any of this against you.”
His tone was deliberate—tender in the way a trap hides under leaves. No threats. No shouting. Just arrogance wrapped in false mercy.
The message ended. Silence thickened.
Her stomach turned; the mug slipped slightly in her damp hand.
Burke didn’t touch the phone. “Save it. Don’t respond.”
Scout stepped in from the porch, hat under his arm. “We’ll log the number and the time. Not much we can do for a call—the case against him’s dismissed—but if Rhea files anything later, this helps pattern it.”
