My fingers drift to my badge. It feels heavier than usual, tightening my shirt. I swear I can even feel my hair shift under my beanie. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe everything is in my head this morning.
But something isn’t right.
I’m still creeped out by Ingram.
But he’s gone.
And he wouldn’t lie about something like that. Right?
He’d be stupid to lie about it, knowing how easily any one of us at the station might see his wife in town. His kids must be out of school…
Just then, a faint crunch breaks the silence.
I go still and scan through the windshield, then flick my gaze to the left wing mirror where the sound came from, but I see nothing new.
I’m parked close to the sagebrush. Maybe it tapped the SUV in the breeze—except there is no breeze.
It could be anything. A rabbit. A squirrel.
“You’re hearing things,” I whisper. “Get a grip, Frey.”
But my mind drifts where I don’t want it to go—right back to everything I shouldn’t have to worry about today.
Back to Ingram’s comment this morning.
Last thing those poor Marshall folks need is another officer knocking at their door.
He said it casually. But it didn’t wash over me. Was he hoping to delay my visit to the Marshalls?
Or warning me he already knew about it…?
He’s in Florida now.
Far from me. Far from this case.
Far from whatever is unraveling in Echo Valley. We’re looking for Mace now, and he has no clue we’re coming for him. I’m not sure how quickly Ava and Enzo can move on things like this, but Rio gave the nod over twelve hours ago.
Anton will be here soon with an update. And I’m so glad he decided to join me. This place is creep…
There again—movement. The brush sways once as if something slipped behind it.
My heartbeat taps at my throat. I don’t look away from the sage.
The radio crackles, static bursting through the cabin like a scream.
I jerk back hard, slamming into the seat. “Jesus…” I clutch my chest. “That damn near gave me a heart attack.”
The static hisses, clicks, then falls silent.
I am way too keyed up out here.
I swallow and force my breathing to slow. Radios glitch. They pick up interference. Nothing about that should rattle me.
But it rattles me anyway.
I try my phone again. It would really help to call Anton. Something about the way he talks to me anchors things. But the signal is still dead.
The winter air finds new ways into the cabin, creeping deeper. Under my gloves. Under my skin.
