He did.
Longer this time.
Slower.
“You’re telling me she just packed up and left?” Caitlin pressed. “And didn’t take a single one of these with her? Didn’t come back for anything?”
Burke didn’t answer right away.
Because the longer he looked, the less that version made sense. It hadn’t bothered him before—twenty-seven years and a closed file—but this didn’t look like someone who’d closed anything.
“Burke,” she said again, softer now. “Please.”
He glanced at her. Then at Izzy. Then back at the table.
“I’ll take another look at it,” he said finally. “That’s all I’m promising right now.”
Caitlin smiled immediately. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Izzy exhaled, tension easing a notch.
“Thank you,” she said.
Burke gave a small nod, closing the file.
Behind them, the barn door opened again.
Grant stepped in, hat low, eyes adjusting to the light as he took in the scene.
“All right,” he said, glancing between them and the table. “Y’all planning on solving a twenty-seven-year-old mystery today or?—”
He paused, taking in the spread, something in his expression tightening for half a second.
“—or is this gonna take a minute?”
Caitlin grinned. “We’re just getting started.”
Grant shook his head once, a hint of a smile there.
“Well,” he said, “when you’re done saving the world, I was thinking steaks.”
Izzy looked up. “Steaks?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Figured we could fire up the grill. Weather’s too good not to.”
Caitlin lit up. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”
Burke glanced at her. “You just ate lunch.”
“That was hours ago,” she said. “I’ve moved on.”
Grant smirked, looking over at Izzy.
“What do you think?”
Izzy glanced back at the table—the art, the sketches, the open file. Then back at him.
“Six?” she said.
