Jake
Jake leaned against his truck,watching through the wide front window as Hannah moved behind the counter of Sugar & Spice. The bakery had been open for an hour now, the scent of cinnamon and coffee spilling into the street, drawing in the occasional tourist. A couple of road-trippers sat near the window, laughing over their lattes, oblivious to the tension that had settled into this place like an old wound.
Hannah looked… tired. Tired, but steady, her hands deft as she wiped down the counter, answering questions with polite efficiency. To the casual observer, she was just a woman running her business, nothing out of the ordinary.
But Jake knew better.
He'd seen the way her hands trembled as she scrubbed away the dirt left by the dead bouquet. Seen the way her eyes darted toward the windows, how she flinched at every unexpected sound.
He should be inside. Should be making sure she was safe.
Instead, he was here.
Making a call he already knew the answer to.
With a sigh, he pressed Martinez's number. The line barely rang before she picked up.
"Cooper."
Jake cut to the chase. "There was another incident."
A pause. Then a slow exhale. "How bad?"
"Flowers this time." He kept his voice even, professional. "Dead. Left on her doorstep. No note, but the meaning was clear."
"Shit." A chair creaked on her end—he could picture her leaning back, rubbing her temples. "Let me guess. No cameras, no witnesses, no real evidence to go on."
Jake clenched his jaw. "None."
"Harrison?"
"Who else?"
Another sigh. "Cooper, you know I want to help. But we don't have the resources for this."
Jake's grip tightened on the phone. "You have the resources for surveillance on politicians' mistresses and offshore tax evaders, but you don't have anything for a woman who's being actively harassed?"
"You think I don't care?" Her voice sharpened. "This isnotan FBI priority. It's alocalmatter. If the sheriff wants to handle it, great. But you and I both know what that means in a town like Crystal Lake."
Jake stared through the windshield, jaw tight. Hedidknow. The sheriff would take a report, shake a few hands, and move on.
"So what do you suggest?"
A beat of silence. Then: "Let it go, Cooper."
Jake shut his eyes, his fingers curling into a fist against his knee.
No.
That wasn't happening.
"I can't," he said, voice rough. "She's not just—" He stopped, inhaling sharply. "I can't."
Martinez was quiet for a long moment. Then her voice softened. "Jesus. You're really in love with her, aren't you?"
Jake let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "She's the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with."
Another pause. Then—soft, almost amused: "Congratulations."
