“Wade Hollis invited me to his house tomorrow,” she said, her voice carrying clear across the gravel. “To look at his private collection.”
The silence that followed was entirely different than the one before. Colder. Clinical.
Grant’s eyes narrowed instantly. “Wade doesn’t invite strangers into his house, Izzy. Not unless he wants something from them.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m looking for something, too,” Izzy said evenly.
“I’m going.”
Grant finally spoke, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that sounded like it had been dragged over gravel.
“You have absolutely no idea what you’re walking into.”
Izzy held his flint-blue gaze, her mouth curving into a slow, bitter line.
“Funny,” she said quietly. “Now suddenly you’re worried where I end up.”
* * *
Izzy stood on the top step, her eyes closed against the mountain glare.
Gravel crunched at the far end of the drive. She didn’t move at first, her posture rigid. The sound came again—heavy tires easing over stone and dirt, slow and deliberate.
When she opened her eyes and turned, Burke’s truck was already halfway up the approach, dust curling behind the bumper. It rolled to a heavy stop just short of the porch steps.
The engine cut. Caitlin was out of the passenger side first. She took two quick steps toward the house, then stopped dead. Her eyes landed on Izzy, then dropped instantly to the leather suitcase resting against the wood.
Something in Caitlin’s expression shifted, the color draining.
“…okay,” Caitlin said slowly, her gaze moving between them. “What exactly did we just walk into?”
Izzy crossed her arms lightly over her chest, her face a perfect, gallery-honed mask. “Bad timing,” she said.
Caitlin didn’t buy it. Didn’t push it either. Not yet.
Burke came around the front of the truck, shutting the driver’s door with a solid, metallic thud that echoed off the barn. His gaze moved once across the scene—taking in Izzy, the suitcase, the half-open front door, and Grant standing rigid in the shadows of the overhang.
The Sheriff didn’t comment. Didn’t ask for an explanation. He stepped up onto the porch, his uniform star catching the light.
“We officially reopened Clara Vale’s case this morning,” Burke said.
The announcement landed differently this time. It wasn’t like Grant mentioning it in the middle of an argument. This time it was official. Legal.
Izzy held the Sheriff’s gaze. “I heard,” she said.
Burke’s brow shifted, his eyes narrowing. “You did?”
She nodded once, her jaw set. “Yeah.”
He studied her for a long second, measuring the absolute lack of flinch in her posture. Then he gave her a single, respectful nod back.
“Good,” he said.
Caitlin’s shoulders eased a fraction as she stepped closer to the steps, pulling herself back into the moment.
“Okay,” she said, glancing between her brother and her best friend. “Can we maybe slow down for one single second?”
She climbed the steps, stopping right in front of Izzy, lowering her voice enough to bypass the men.
