His hand flexes once, twice, before his gaze locks on the detectives. His entire body is tension coiled tight, his jaw rigid enough to crack.
He plants himself next to the male detective without speaking another word.
The detective smirks faintly. “Convenient as ever, sir.”
The female detective steps forward, her voice calmer, precise. “We need to speak with you, Sheriff. In private.”
“Down the hall.” Jacob’s voice is the low thunder of a storm. “Second door on the left.”
They both nod and head toward the room.
Jacob comes to me. He holds out his hand. I take it immediately.
“What you hear in this room might not be pleasant, baby. You don’t have to come,” he says.
Constance and Adelaide both look in our direction, confused. They’ve been sat reading magazines and drinking soda. I thought they would have gone home by now, but then, I know they’d never leave me when my world is crumbling. I also know part of them wants the truth about Benny. As much as it hurts me that he’s lied about his identity, he’s lied to them too. They were trying to help me. Trying to be there for me. And in doing so, they’d crossed paths with… Benny.
They met him. They talked about my life with him. Part of me knows they feel just as blindsided as I do.
“No, I’m coming,” I say, cutting off whatever protest Jacob was about to make. I fall into step beside him as we head toward room, trailing after the detectives.
The woman’s gaze flicks to me first—not pitying, not cruel, just sudden and appraising, like she’s weighing exactly how much truth I already hold. I clutch the cup of coffee tighter, the heat biting into my palms, grounding me in the only way I can manage.
The male detective sighs, dragging a hand over the stubble on his jaw before extending it toward Jacob. “Sheriff.”
Jacob hesitates, then takes it, the handshake brief, strained.
“Maddox, Navarro,” Jacob says flatly, his tone clipped and cold. “What brings you here?”
Maddox’s eyes narrow slightly. “Sir, the girl. Is she?—”
“She’s my fiancée. She stays,” Jacob cuts in, tone harsh and final.
For a second, I think I’ve misheard him.Fiancée?
The word slams into me, heavy and disorienting. My breath catches somewhere between my chest and throat. He says it like it’s fact, like it’s something that’s always been true.
I stare at him, but he doesn’t look my way. Doesn’t offer so much as a flicker of explanation. Just stands there—calm, commanding, completely unbothered—while I’m left reeling, trying to figure out when exactly I agreed to belong to him like that.
I’m snapped back to reality when Maddox clears his throat and continues.
“The patient upstairs, Sheriff—” he stops mid-sentence. His attention flicks to me. But Jacob doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. He just stands there—still as stone—like he’s been expecting this all along.
Navarro tilts her head, assessing. “Sheriff, we need to be clear about the importance of identifying the man upstairs.” Her gaze locks on me.
My knees weaken. The mug trembles in my hands, coffee spilling over the rim and scalding my skin, but I barely feel it. Jacob shifts just enough for his arm to brush mine—a silent anchor, a warning, maybe both. He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t need to. His stare stays fixed on Maddox, jaw tight, unreadable.
And yet, both of them—Maddox and the Navarro—keep watching me like I’m something fragile and dangerous all at once. Like they know they’re about to startle me and can’t anticipate how I’ll react.
“Get to the point,” Jacob says, low. Dangerous.
Maddox doesn’t blink. “Sheriff, there’s been an incident handed over from Broadachre County.” His voice dips, grave. “Jackson Moore.”
My heart stops.
Navarro takes over, her tone softer, though the words hit like bullets. “Moore was transferred for an appeal hearing yesterday. On the return trip, the transport bus was ambushed. Officers killed. Prisoners injured. Moore was taken.”
No.
