“That’s the truth.” Tracy leans down, her voice dropping. Her hands grip the table edge. “And if you try to use any of this so-called evidence, I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of man you really are. You think the state investigation is bad now? Wait until I’m done with you.”
“Tracy—”
“You should have stayed away from my daughter, Officer Edwards. Now you’re both going to pay for it.”
My hands grip the edge of the table.
She walks out, heels clicking against the diner floor. Through the window, I watch her get into her car and drive away, back straight, chin up. The diner feels quieter without her fury filling the space.
She’s not backing down. If anything, I’ve made her more determined.
I sit in the empty booth, staring at the folder. My hands are still shaking. Not from fear, but from barely controlled anger.
I came here thinking I could force Tracy to back off. Instead, I've cornered a woman who's been covering up crimes for years. And cornered people don't surrender.
They fight back harder.
Chris was right. She's not going down without a fight. Which means I just made things worse for Alice. Tracy's not going to stop.
Time to take this evidence somewhere it can't be ignored. Before Tracy has a chance to make good on her threats.
Chapter 38
Alice
Istareatmyphonefor the tenth time in an hour, Sawyer’s contact pulled up on the screen. We’ve been texting occasionally—small talk mostly—but keeping our distance like we agreed. Trying to protect each other.
This is stupid.
I adjust my glasses, a nervous habit I can’t seem to break. We’re protecting each other right into being miserable.
I’m tired of protecting everyone else at the expense of what I want.
And what I want is to hear his voice. To see him. To stop pretending that staying away from each other is helping anything.
My thumb hovers over the call button. I push my glasses up my nose. It’s after six, so he’s probably done with his shift. Probably at home studying for that sergeant exam.
Just call him.Worst case, he doesn't answer. And if he doesn't... maybe that's a sign we should move on.
Before I can spiral into ten more reasons why this is a terrible idea, I press call.
He answers on the second ring. “Hey.”
My heart jumps. Just one word, but the rumble of his voice does something to my chest. “Hi.” God, I sound pathetically relieved. “How was your day?”
“It was okay. What about yours?”
“Same.” I walk to my kitchen window, looking out at the gray afternoon, trying to think of something to say that isn’t I’ve been staring at my phone like a lovesick teenager for an hour. “Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.”
Oh my god, why did I say that?The words hang in the air between us, and I immediately want to take them back. My face gets hot.
The silence stretches. One second. Two.
“I miss you too, Alicat,” he says quietly, and there’s something raw in his voice that makes my breath catch. I feel like it’s been forever since he’s called me that. It’s almost like a reassurance.
