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Brewer shakes his head. “I’m going to head over there now. Bron might return home, but I honestly doubt it. In my experience, men like him will try to run and hide. Eventually, they’ll get caught.”

This is not what I wanted.

Bron on the run, a hunted criminal, gives me deep and profound joy. The backlash of his actions on Lachlan has my stomach knotting. The town will know him as the father of a rapist. It will tank his business. Ruin his life in Jefferson.

“Sheriff, you’ve been so kind during this horrible ordeal, and I am truly grateful,” I begin, picking each word with all the care in the world. “I just have to ask, can we please keep what Bron tried to do to me off the record?”

I can see him trying to process my request. I see it when he gets it and rejects it.

“You’re asking me to bury an attempted assault, Everly.” His voice is low, not exactly angry, but tired and weighted with confusion.

I nod. “You know the town won’t believe it didn’t happen. There will be stories and speculations that will make my life harder. There’s also the matter of Mr. Shaw and his reputation. What Bron did will ruin his life.”

“What about when he tries to hurt the next girl he comes across?”

He won’t.

But I can’t say that. Not without dropping me and Lauren into the boiling pot.

“Mr. Shaw is innocent, and it wouldn’t just be him. Mr. Weaver will get pulled into this mess as well, just for being close friends with Mr. Shaw. It will bring Lauren into this mess. It will destroy so many lives. I will pull my statement if I have to, but I’m not going to let them take the fall for this, Sheriff.” I take a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. Level headed. “You have enough to put him away for a long time. It’s just this one thing I’m asking you to keep to yourself.”

“It’s a damn big thing, Everly,” he shoots back. “You’re asking me to overlook a crime, and I will not do that.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he’s overlooked plenty of crimes in the past. His entire professional career is littered with deliberate ignorance. He’s refusing now because I wield no power in our negotiation, and I know I’ve lost this fight.

“He’s not coming back,” I tell him slowly. Carefully. “He’s gone.”

Brewer’s eyes narrow. “You don’t know that. Unless you’re not telling me something.”

I don’t have to look at Lauren to feel the weight of her eyes boring into me, warning me that I’m edging on thin ice.

“Bron isn’t stupid. He knows he’s in a world of trouble. He’s not going to skip back into town and turn himself in. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not halfway back to British Columbia by now. Or even hopping the border into the States. He’s not coming back, Sheriff. I am telling you right now. The only thing this will do is ruin the lives of the people I care about and I’m asking you to please not do that.”

He doesn’t answer right away. The muscles in his jaw flex beneath day old stubble that twitch the corner of his mustache. His big hands hook into the front of his belt, and he turns his face away from me.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of what you’re asking me to do, the legal threads—”

“I’m trying to keep peace,” I correct. “Jefferson is a place of unity and neighborly appreciation. We rely on each other to keep that wheel spinning. Lachlan, Van and Lauren have done nothing wrong. They have been pillars of our community. Why should they get punished for the wrongdoings of one man?”

“Man.” Brewer grunts under his breath. He shakes his head. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Everly, because...” he trails off, head still rocking slowly from side to side. “If he shows his face again, my hands are tied. Do you understand me?”

Relieved, I nod quickly. “I understand. Thank you.”

His gaze flicks to mine, but he says nothing when turning on his heels and marching from the room, leaving me alone with Lauren.

Neither of us says a word. We return to our stillness. We slip back into all the things neither of us can say. Even when Dr. Hammell returns and wraps my arm in gauze and sets it in a sling, Lauren stays at the wall and I keep my gaze away from her.

“They will find him eventually,” she says only when we’re back in my car. “His truck has a GPS. Your phone has one, too. They’ll—”

“Finding an empty truck isn’t going to make any kind of difference,” I point out. “They need a body.”

I reach for the keys dangling from the ignition with my good hand, and freeze. Horror slams into me even as I kick open my door and scramble to the trunk.

There is nothing left of the cake but a gloppy, melted puddle of sugar. Pink frosting bleeds into the cardboard and seeps out of the corners. The tiny rosebuds are bloated lumps seeping into the purple smear ofHappy Birthday, Lauren.

On my other side, Lauren pokes her head over my shoulder and stares down at the mess.

“What’s that?”