“You okay with that?” I finally asked.
“I guess I don’t have much choice.”
Her voice cracked right there at the end. Just a little. Like something in her was bending and pretending not to.
Sawyer leaned back on the stool, jaw tight.
I exhaled slowly. “All right. Talk later.”
“Okay,” she whispered. Then hung up like it hurt her to do it.
I stared at the screen until it faded to black. Set the phone down, slower than I meant to.
Sawyer ran a hand down his face. “She doesn’t even hear herself, does she?”
I didn’t answer.
“It’s like listening to someone try to sleep on barbed wire and call it a damn mattress.”
That one dug in.
I rubbed my thumb over my jaw. “She’s stuck.”
“She’s loyal,” he corrected, “which turns into stuck when someone like Matt is pulling the strings. And make no mistake—he’s pulling hard.”
I didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Her voice was still echoing in my mind.
Sawyer stared at me, like he knew what I wasn’t saying. “You’re not gonna let this ride, are you?”
I shook my head once. Firm.
“No. I’m not.”
He nodded slowly. “Didn’t think so.”
I looked toward the trail cam box, then back to the laptop still showing Matt’s quiet little street.
“She deserves to know the truth,” I said.
“And we’re gonna get it,” Sawyer replied, tapping the screen like it was a war map. “Trail cam. Abandoned barn.”
“You thinking about scouting the lot and checking for posted signs?”
“Yes, but the weather’s been crap, and I wanted to talk to you first. Here’s what I think. If we’re going to use one of those cams, I say we mount it across the street from that house.”
“And wait.”
“And watch,” he said. “We don’t need confrontation. Just the truth.”
I nodded slowly, the wheels turning.
Sawyer shut the laptop and looked at me again. “You ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready since the moment she said he didn’t even ask if she was okay.”
Sawyer’s jaw ticked. “Then we roll out before sunup.”
“Say it,” I muttered.