“She didn’t show.”
Luke stayed quiet.
“I rode out to the cabin,” Sam said. “Figured she lost track of time. Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
A pause.
“She wasn’t there.”
He swallowed once.
“Truck was still parked out front. Clothes inside. Paintings. Supplies. Mail sitting on the table.”
He shook his head.
“Everything but her.”
Luke felt that settle wrong in his gut.
“You knew something was wrong.”
“Yeah. Right then.”
He stared out across the pasture again.
“She wouldn’t do that,” he said. “Wouldn’t just leave her whole life sitting there.”
“You went to the sheriff.”
Sam gave a short, dry huff.
“Yeah. I did.”
A beat.
“He took a look around. Asked a few questions.”
Another beat.
“Called it a walkaway.”
“Right,” he said. “That’s what it was.”
Luke glanced at him. “You didn’t believe that.”
“Not for a second.”
Luke let the pause stretch.
“You ever have a sense of what might’ve happened?”
Sam didn’t answer right away.
When he did, his voice had dropped.
“Back then… I had my thoughts.”
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
