Izzy was standing in the doorway of the ruins, the sun catching the highlights in her hair. She looked beautiful—and utterly out of place. Cal Hollis was standing beside her. Grant watched as Cal said something that made Izzy tilt her head, and then Cal reached out.
It wasn’t a tentative move. Cal stepped into her space, his hands finding her waist, and pulled her into a long, slow embrace.
Grant’s heart hit his ribs like a sledgehammer. He watched, fixed in place, as Cal leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t the rough, desperate collision Grant had forced on her in the kitchen. This was smooth. This was the kiss of a man who thought he’d already won.
And Izzy didn’t pull away.
Grant let the binoculars drop against his chest with a heavy thud. The image of Cal’s hand on her waist was burned into his retinas, regret going sharp and cold in his gut. He’d pushed her away that morning. Now he was watching another man step into the space he’d left open.
He didn’t move. He didn’t roar. He went unnervingly still, his jaw working as he stared at the gray stones of the chapel.
“Grant?” Burke asked, his voice low with caution. “You see something?”
Grant took a slow, steadying breath. He didn’t hand the glasses back. He couldn’t risk Burke seeing what he’d seen—not yet.
“They’re at the ruins,” Grant said, his voice flat, drained of everything but a jagged professional edge. “Cal and Izzy. If we’re going to set these cameras, we need to do it now while they’re distracted. We stay low, we stay in the treeline.”
Scout glanced at Burke, then at the rigid line of Grant’s shoulders. “You okay, man? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” Grant snapped, though his hands were trembling slightly as he reached for the first trail cam. “Let’s get this done. We’ve got maybe twenty minutes before they head back down to the Escalade. I want a clear shot of that strip and the access road.”
He worked with a grim, silent efficiency, his movements precise and mechanical. He was a Scott, and the work came first. But every time he looked down toward that chapel, the knot in him tightened. He had pushed her right where she needed to be to get the truth, but seeing her there—playing the part so well it looked real—was a price he hadn’t realized he’d have to pay.
“Check the angle on that one,” Grant told Scout, his voice sounding like it had been dragged over gravel. He didn’t look at his brother. He didn’t look at the sky. He kept his head down, trying to bury the sight of the kiss.
31
Hollis Ridge Estate
The drive up hadn’t changed, but Luke’s perspective had. Having spent years in a city PD before coming home to Sylva, he recognized the “Hollis effect” for what it was: insulation. The stone guard shack and the silent iron gates weren’t for privacy; they were there to remind the world that the law usually stopped at the property line.
When Luke entered the library, the air was cool and smelled of beeswax and expensive tobacco. Wade Hollis didn’t look up from his desk immediately, but he didn’t look bothered either. He looked like a man who’d spent his life surrounded by people who said yes.
“Luke Hale,” Wade said, finally looking up with a wide, easy smile that was all honey and no sting. “I was wondering when you’d find your way up the mountain. Your mom tells me you’re settling back in just fine. Sit down, son. Take a weight off.”
“Appreciate it, Wade,” Luke said, settling into a leather chair that felt like it cost more than his cruiser.
“Can I get you something? Coffee? Something stronger? I know the Sheriff’s department doesn’t pay nearly enough for the hours you put in.”
“I’m good, thank you. I’m actually here on official business. We’ve reopened the Clara Vale file, and I wanted to clear up some things from the 1999 report.”
Wade sighed, a soft, practiced sound of regret. He leaned back, his Stetson tipped perfectly. “Clara. Such a tragic, beautiful girl. I always felt for her, Luke. She had a light in her, but she was trapped in that little shack with a man who couldn’t see past his own fence line.”
“Sam Talley says you were the one circling her, Wade,” Luke said, pulling out his notebook.
Wade let out a short, charming laugh. “Sam. Bless his heart. He’s a hothead, always has been. That business at the fair? That wasn’t about me ‘pawing’ at her. That was a lovers’ quarrel that spilled into the livestock barn. Clara and I… well, we had a summer. It wasn’t my proudest moment, being a married man, but she was persistent. She wanted more than Sam Talley could give her, and he knew it.”
He leaned forward, his voice dropping into a confidential, easy tone.
“Sam caught us in that cabin a few nights before she vanished. He went wild. Threatened to kill us both. I left because I didn’t want the scandal, and I figured they’d settle it. Then she was gone. I’ve always carried a bit of guilt for not taking her with me that night, but a man has to think of his family first.”
Wade fell quiet then.
For the first time since Luke had walked into the library, the performance slipped.
His gaze drifted past the bourbon glass toward a small silver-framed photograph tucked behind the leather blotter on his desk.
Cal.
