The drive to Branson felt longer than it had the first time.
Molly kept both hands tight on the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the leather. The highway blurred past in long stretches of gray and green, but her thoughts never slowed.
Every mile felt like she was getting closer to something.
Or walking straight into it.
She pulled into Brian's apartment complex just after sunset.
He was already outside waiting.
Not in uniform.
Jeans. Dark jacket. Tension in his posture.
She stepped out of the car, and for a second neither of them spoke.
"You made it," he said finally.
"Yeah."
Her voice felt small compared to the weight she was carrying.
He grabbed her suitcase before she could protest.
"Let's get you inside."
His apartment was quiet. Clean. Minimal.
Safe.
The word felt strange.
"This is the guest room," he said, opening the door. "Bathroom's down the hall. You don't have to worry about anything."
She stepped inside slowly.
Fresh sheets.
Lamp on.
Space cleared in the dresser.
"You didn't have to do this," she said softly.
"Yes, I did."
Their eyes met briefly.
There was something unspoken there now.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
But steady.
He stepped back into the hallway.
"We need to go over a few things."
Her stomach tightened.
"Okay."
He leaned against the kitchen counter.
"If you run into Jack at the station, or anywhere—"
"I just say I'm here to be closer to the search."
"Exactly."
"No mention of files. No suspicions."
"None."
"And you don't ask him questions."
"I won't."
He nodded.
"You're here because you're her sister. That's it."
"What if he asks why I'm staying here?"
He held her gaze evenly.
"He won't."
"But if he does?"
"You say hotel rates were too high."
She nodded slowly.
"Brian… do you think he suspects anything?"
"No."
And that was the truth.
Jack was calm.
Confident.
Certain.
He believed no one saw him.
"And we keep it that way," Brian added.
She walked further into the apartment.
It felt strange being here.
Private.
Close.
"Thank you," she said again.
He looked at her a moment longer than necessary.
"You're not alone in this."
For the first time since Sarah vanished—
She felt that might actually be true.
The Cabin
Sarah hadn't seen the outside of the bedroom in two days.
After the dinner incident, Jack stopped pretending.
Meals came in silence.
The door locked immediately.
Tape is replaced regularly.
Her wrists were bruised now.
The seam she'd been working on was reinforced.
No window.
No opportunity.
No leverage.
The room felt smaller.
The air is heavier.
She heard him pacing outside.
Then silence.
Then the faint click of a lock.
Additional.
Her stomach dropped.
He was adding barriers.
She closed her eyes.
Not to give up.
To conserve.
Because she understood something clearly now—
He wasn't planning to let her go.
Branson Police Department – Late Night
Brian reopened the Emily Harper file.
He hadn't been able to shake it.
He cross-referenced missing persons reports in Missouri during Jack's tenure in Carbondale.
Nothing confirmed.
But one detail stood out.
Emily Harper's phone records from Tennessee showed brief cell pings in southern Missouri three weeks before she vanished.
At the time, investigators assumed it was travel.
No one followed up.
Brian leaned forward.
Southern Missouri.
Near the Ozarks.
Near Branson.
The timeline overlapped with Jack's scheduled vacation days before transferring departments.
Coincidence again.
But the coincidences were stacking.
He pulled up Jack's old leave records.
There it was.
Five-day personal leave.
No travel documentation required.
Brian's pulse slowed deliberately.
He didn't jump to conclusions.
He didn't label anything.
But he opened a new folder.
Emily – Missouri Travel.
He added the leave record.
The cell ping summary.
And a map overlay.
Still no proof.
But the shadow was getting longer.
Brian's Apartment – Later
Molly sat at the small kitchen table, laptop open.
"Do you want tea?" Brian asked.
She nodded.
The domestic normalcy of the moment felt surreal compared to what her sister might be enduring.
"Do you ever get scared?" she asked quietly.
He handed her the mug.
"Yes."
She looked up.
"You don't seem like it."
"I am," he admitted. "But I don't get to show it."
She studied him.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. "Most detectives would've just filed reports and waited."
He hesitated.
"Because this doesn't feel random."
"And because of me?"
His eyes held hers for a second.
"That too."
The silence between them wasn't awkward.
It was heavy.
Shared.
"I don't want to lose her," she whispered.
"We won't."
He said it firmly.
Even if he wasn't certain.
Across town, Jack finished reviewing his domestic case notes and shut off the station lights.
Everything was quiet.
Orderly.
Normal.
He drove home without a single suspicion in his mind.
No one had questioned him.
No one had looked twice.
He believed himself careful.
Untouchable.
And for now—
He was.