Lincoln’s hands stayed loose at his sides. His face stayed neutral. But something cold had settled at the base of his spine.
“I asked around,” Callum said. “Bear couldn’t seem to remember a single detail about the woman you brought. Not her hair color, size, shape. Nothing.”
Lincoln wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Just someone I met in the parking lot. She wasn’t very memorable.”
“Seems that way. Because not only could Bear not remember anything about her, neither could Joy. Derek and Becky drew a blank too. Theo and Eva—same story.”
He paused. Let that land.
“Six people. Smart people. People I would, and have, trust with my life. People who notice everything and forget nothing.” Callum’s eyes never left Lincoln’s face. “And not one of them could describe a single detail about the woman who spent an entire evening in their company. That’s a lot of collective amnesia from some of the sharpest people in Oak Creek.”
Lincoln said nothing. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t make this worse.
“Linc, I’m not here as the sheriff.” Callum’s voice dropped, something almost like regret bleeding through. “I’m here because you’ve given me reasons to trust you. Because when you do something that looks wrong from the outside, there’s usually something I can’t see that makes it right.” He took a breath. “I’m giving you a chance, Lincoln. Whatever this is. Whatever’s going on. Tell me.”
The offer hung between them like a hand extended across a chasm.
Lincoln thought about Morgan upstairs, clutching herletters. Thought about what she’d survived, what she was still carrying, the federal databases that wanted to swallow her whole. He thought about Callum—a good man, a fair man, someone who’d earned the truth.
But he thought about what the truth would cost Morgan. And as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t trust Callum.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The lie tasted like ash in his mouth. “Whoever was at the Eagle’s Nest—I can’t imagine why anyone would find her interesting.”
Callum studied him. Lincoln watched the calculation happen—the weighing of words against instinct, the cop’s brain cataloging every microexpression, every tell. Callum knew he was lying. They both knew.
The silence stretched until it became its own kind of answer.
“All right,” Callum said finally. He moved toward the door, and Lincoln followed, each step heavier than the last. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
At the threshold, Callum paused. His hand rested on the doorframe, but he didn’t turn around.
“Whatever you’re protecting, Lincoln…” His voice was quiet. Almost sad. “I hope it’s worth what it costs.”
Then he was gone.
Lincoln stood in the empty foyer, listening to the truck’s engine fade down the drive. The security system logged the departure with clinical efficiency. Gate closing. Perimeter secure. Threat assessment: unchanged.
But everything had changed. He’d just lied to a man who’d trusted him. Burned a bridge that had taken years to build. Callum would remember this—not with anger, maybe, but with the kind of disappointed wariness that never fully healed.
The cost of protecting Morgan was adding up.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. He looked up to find her standing at the landing, her arms wrapped around herself, her face pale in the afternoon light filtering through the windows.
“I heard,” she said. “On the monitor.”
“I know.”
“He gave you a chance to tell the truth.” She descended slowly, each step careful, like she was walking on ice that might crack. “You lied to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“Your friends lied too. All of them. Bear, Joy, everyone.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, close enough to touch but holding herself apart. “They covered for you without even being asked.”
“That’s what family does.”
She flinched at the word.Family. The thing she’d never had. The thing she’d spent her whole life watching from the outside.
Before either of them could speak, his secure channel pinged.
