She sighed, grabbed her tea, and sat down.
Satisfied, I turned back to the bacon, that was definitely done cooking, and removed them from the pan. With that, everyone grabbed a plate and loaded them up with food.
I served Palmer before I got my own, and when I sat down, Graham gave me a look—one of those quiet, knowing looks he’d perfected over the years—but he didn’t say anything as he took a bite of his eggs.
August sat down a little stiffly, tension still riding his shoulders, but he forced a smile when he glanced at Palmer. “I, for one, am glad that we brought her with us,” he said as he stared down at his plate.
The rest of the guys followed suit by thanking Palmer.
Fox took a bite of his eggs, chewed thoughtfully, then nodded once. “This is really good. I would’ve never guessed they weren’t fresh.”
Color crept up Palmer’s neck as she stared down into her tea, seeming faintly flustered. “I’m glad you guys are enjoying it.” She seemed almost embarrassed by the praise.
“I’m glad my brother has had you here with him,” Graham added.
Palmer nodded, but didn’t respond.
We drifted into quiet, half-mumbled small talk while we finished eating. Forks scraped plates, coffee was poured, and the normal sounds of a kitchen felt almost too ordinary compared to the blackened skeleton of Hearthstone standing out in the cold.
August leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. The tension that had followed him in from outside hadn’t eased, but he was getting better at hiding it.
He looked at each of us in turn before his gaze landed on Palmer. “I think it’s time we discuss the plan going forward,” he said evenly. “Do you want to stay for this conversation?”
Her brows drew together. “Plan?”
August’s eyes flicked to mine in silent question. I gave him the slightest nod. She deserved to be involved if she was going to stay with us.
“I want to lure out the Shadow Stalker,” August continued. “Amos needs to be re-apprehended so that, one way or another, he can face justice for what he’s done.”
Palmer’s hand tightened around her mug. “What’s your plan?”
“We can’t sit and wait for him to strike again or make a mistake.” August braced his forearms on the table. “If he is behind the fires, and I believe that he is, then he’s already trying to send a message.”
“He wants attention,” Reid muttered.
“He wants control,” Graham corrected.
August rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Which brings me to phase one.” He looked at me. “You need to hold a press conference.”
“A press conference?” My shoulders stiffened. “About what?”
“About the fires,” he said. “You speak for the fire department as chief. You reassure the town. You say we believe these fires are connected. You say we are confident the perpetrator will be apprehended soon, that you have a lead.”
“That’ll flush him out?” I asked, doubtful.
“It’ll pressure him,” Fox said.
Graham nodded. “Serial offenders escalate when they feel cornered or dismissed.”
“Don’t mention Amos by name, but imply we know more,” August continued. “Let him think we’re closer than we are.”
I exhaled slowly. I didn’t love the idea of baiting a man like Amos publicly. But I understood the strategy. Push him. Make him react.
“That’s just the first part,” August continued. “The second part is the charity event.”
Palmer’s gaze lifted at that. “The one for the coffee shop?”
“Yes.” August nodded. “It’s a community event. Lots of attention and visibility.”
