Page 27 of Walking Away

Sara chuckled. “Also had a Colorado plate—woman around Benson’s Curve. Something about her registration didn’t sit right. Said she bought the Jeep from a friend in Colorado.”

Sheriff and Scout exchanged a look.

“What do you mean?” the Sheriff asked.

Sara frowned. “Just seemed odd, that’s all.”

The Sheriff shrugged. “Oh well. Have a good night.” He walked out.

Sara turned to Scout. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” he said, smiling faintly. “I think the Sheriff’s got an eye on the lady from Colorado.”

That faint smile hooked deeper than she wanted to admit—the same unsettling mix of protection and awareness she’d felt outside the café.

Sara watched him leave, wondering—did he meaninterested… orsuspicious?

Either way, she knew one thing: her instincts had definitely kicked in about the lady from Colorado.

And Sara Parker planned to keep an eye on her, too.

Chapter 16

Threshold

Darcy

It had been a few weeks since she’d embraced the quiet charm of Sylva, North Carolina, and today she was headed to Emma’s for lunch. She wanted to stop by the bakery first and pick up a box of treats—something sweet and thoughtful to set on Emma’s kitchen table.

Digging through her purse for her keys, her fingers brushed a slip of paper—the speeding ticket she’d forgotten.

“Great,” she muttered. On the back, bold black print read:To pay your fine, go to the Main Courthouse.

A ripple of unease slid through her. She’d admired the courthouse from a distance—its dome and sweep of steps—but walking inside felt risky.What if they ran my name—and Jason’s shadow somehow reached across those marble floors?

Tucking the ticket back, she promised herself she’d take care of it later.

Darcy stepped out of the camper, purse over her shoulder, and started down the narrow path toward the market. Morning air was cool and sharp, damp earth clinging to every breath.

Halfway down, movement in the brush made her freeze—a quick shadow darting across the path. She startled—until a burst of wings erupted, a covey of doves scattering into the branches. She exhaled, laughing softly at herself.

By the time the trees thinned and the market’s porch came into view, she’d steadied. The smell of coffee drifted down the path, warm and inviting. Mary Lou sat in one rocking chair, a bright crocheted shawl draped over her shoulders, mug held just so in both hands.

“Well, if it isn’t our newest neighbor,” Mary Lou called, her grin as easy as the morning itself. She set down her mug and reached for a tin of muffins on the porch railing, ever the town’s unofficial feeder.

Ned cocked his battered ball cap a little farther back and whittled at a bit of wood with his trusty pocketknife, boots planted wide on the porch floor.

Darcy smiled, climbing the porch steps. “Didn’t expect to see you two holding court out here.”

Mary Lou chuckled. “Someone has to check up on this guy every once in a while. He hardly ever comes into town.”

Ned smirked. “Why would I, when the town keeps bringing itself to me?” He gave Darcy a wink.

Darcy laughed, easing into an empty chair. The easy banter between them wrapped around her like comfort.

After a lull, she admitted, “I like it here more every day, but that little camper of mine—Bambi—is starting to feel cramped.”

Mary Lou nodded knowingly. “Then you need to get out more. Sylva’s got more to offer than four walls and a camper roof.”