Page 81 of Walking Away

Far below, the search lights swept through fog and pine, tracing empty shadows across the wrong cabin. Burke didn’t know it yet—but while his team scoured a decoy, Caitlin sat in another house on the same mountain, counting her breaths and waiting for the one chance that might save them both.

Chapter 47

Offer

Evan Cole

They put Evan Cole in Interview Two—the small room with the humming vent and a mirror that wasn’t a mirror. He slouched in the metal chair like he owned it, split lip purple from the takedown, wrists cuffed to a D-ring in the tabletop. He smiled at his reflection, then at the empty chair across from him, like the room had already told him the ending.

Burke watched through the glass with Tessa Quinn at his shoulder and Scout planted like a storm cloud in the corner. The clock ticked too loudly. The building smelled of burned coffee and Pine-Sol—a familiar blend that tonight carried the taste of failure.

Beyond the walls, somewhere in those shadowed ridges, Caitlin was fighting for her life. Jason West—the man who had orchestrated all of this—was waiting. Burke couldn’t shake the image of her: scared, alone, her fate resting in his hands.God, don’t let me fail her.

“Let me open,” Burke said, voice rough.

Tessa’s look was level. “You get five minutes for initial contact. After that, he’s mine. Recorder on. By the book.”

She didn’t have to move much; her stillness had weight. Her eyes were steady on him, unblinking, pen poised but silent. Controlled, precise—she carried command like armor.

He nodded once, pushed through the door, and set a small recorder on the table. The red light blinked.

“Interview with Evan Cole,” Burke said, voice flat for the tape. “Time 20:30. Sheriff Burke Scott present. Mr. Cole has been advised of his rights and signed the waiver at 08:38. That correct?”

Evan looked up, that thin smirk again. “That’s what the paper says.”

Burke sat. No lean-in, no raised voice—just finality. “You shoved Isabel Moreno off a cliff. You left her. You ran.”

“Allegedly,” Evan said, savoring the word.

“You followed Caitlin West for weeks—museum, coffee shop, her cottage. You broke in. You sent photos to Jason West.”

“Allegedly,” he repeated, bored.

Burke tapped the table—steady, slow. “Tell me where he took her.”

Evan cocked his head. “If I knew, you’d already be there, Sheriff. You’ve got what—four deputies and a dog? Cute. But you’re fishing.”

Burke let the jab pass. “One minute before I stop pretending you’re the smart one.”

“Tick-tock.”

“You think Jason West is protecting you. He isn’t. You’re a receipt to him. The minute you say his name, you’re dead to him. He’s not burning a client list to save the guy who pushes women off cliffs.”

A muscle jumped in Evan’s cheek.

“Last chance,” Burke said. “Where is she?”

Evan stared at the mirror, bored again. “Go get someone who knows how to ask a question.”

Burke clicked off the recorder, slid the chair back, and walked out without looking at Scout.

In the hall, he braced both hands against the cinderblock, frustration and guilt rolling through him.I should’ve known who Caitlin really was before Jason West ripped her away.He’d promised himself he’d never miss the signs again. Yet here he was—chasing shadows with her life on the line.

“He’s yours,” Burke said.

“Not yet,” Scout answered, already moving.

Tessa blocked the door. “Deputy?—”