We walked side by side toward the trucks. The chatter dimmed behind us until it was just the crunch of gravel and the chirp of crickets. Somewhere in the distance, a motor turned over, low and lingering, then faded into the dark.
Austin slid his arm around me—warm, steady. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Perfect.”
The word felt true—fragile, but true.
By the time we reached the truck, the fairgrounds were almost dark, and the quiet was comfortable. It felt like peace daring to stay.
Chapter 14
Echoes in the Dark
Austin
The morning after Founders Day felt too calm. Sunlight spilled through the blinds like nothing had shifted, like the night hadn’t ended with that low, crawling sound that didn’t belong.
Milly was still asleep when I eased out of bed. Inspector blinked at me from the end of the quilt, stretched, and followed as I padded through the quiet house. The smell of last night’s fair still clung to the air—smoke, fried food, a trace of her honey. It should’ve felt like peace. It didn’t.
Old habits die hard. My head still ran recon even in the stillness—mental checklist, situational review, environmental scan. Where the vehicles had been parked, where the fair’s perimeter fencing thinned out by the ridge line, which direction the sound had come from.
Southwest, low revs, heavy tires.
I could’ve convinced myself it was a rancher heading home, except the hairs on my neck had gone up before the engine even hit my ears. The body keeps its own kind of intel.
The coffeemaker gurgled to life. While it brewed, I sat at the table, phone in hand, scrolling through the local sheriff’s dispatch log. Caleb Dunn’s team had flagged three noisecomplaints from the festival, one suspicious-vehicle report near Ridge Road. That one sat like a nail in the back of my head.
The call came in at 11:47 p.m.—a farmer on County 9 saying a black pickup had idled by his pasture gate, lights off. Patrol drove through, found nothing.
I texted Dunn:Saw the same type near the fairgrounds. Call me when you’re up.
He responded five minutes later.Coffee’s on. You know where to find me.
Milly stirred when I opened her bedroom door.
“You’re up early,” she murmured, voice soft with sleep.
“Couldn’t turn my brain off.”
“About last night?”
“About the ribs,” I said, aiming for a smile. It almost stuck.
She watched me from the pillow, eyes half-open but sharp in that way she probably didn’t realize. “Don’t go playing hero before breakfast, okay?”
I nodded, kissed her temple, and left before I could promise something I wasn’t built to keep. The kiss was quick, but it left a mark under my skin anyway.
Sheriff Dunn’s office sat across from the feed store, wedged between the post office and the old hardware building. A bell jingled when I stepped in. Dunn was behind his desk, coffee in one hand, radio in the other.
He gestured at the chair opposite him. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”
“I did,” I said. “Just not well.”
“Festival adrenaline crash.” He took a sip, studying me over the rim of his mug. “Or something else?”
“Ridge Road complaint.”
He grunted. “You’d make a lousy retiree.”
