The Cabin
The lake was restless that morning.
Wind cut across the water, pushing small waves against the dock. The sound carried through the cabin walls like a warning.
Sarah sat on the edge of the bed, wrists bound again—this time in front of her. The tape had been replaced after the dinner incident.
Tighter.
Less forgiving.
Her cheek still throbbed faintly where he'd struck her.
She heard him moving in the kitchen.
Calm.
Measured.
Like nothing had happened.
The bedroom door opened.
Jack—Jay—stood there, composed.
"You're going to behave today," he said evenly.
She stared at him.
"You're losing control."
His jaw tightened.
"I am in control."
"You weren't last night."
His eyes darkened.
He stepped into the room slowly.
"You embarrassed me."
"You kidnapped me."
His hand shot out, gripping her arm hard enough to bruise.
"I brought you somewhere safe."
"You dragged me somewhere isolated."
He leaned close, his voice dropping.
"Do you know how many bad things happen to women who don't have someone protecting them?"
Her stomach twisted.
"You're not protecting me."
His grip tightened.
"I am the only thing protecting you."
There it was again.
Delusion woven into justification.
He released her abruptly.
"You'll see," he muttered.
Then he walked out, locking the door.
Sarah waited.
Listened.
Counted the seconds after his footsteps faded.
The tape around her wrists had a weakness now.
A seam where it overlapped.
She smiled faintly.
Not because she was safe.
But because she was learning from him.
And he was becoming predictable.
Branson Police Department
Jack laughed at something one of the patrol officers said.
Coffee in hand.
Relaxed posture.
Easy smile.
You would never know.
Brian watched from across the room.
Jack moved like a man with nothing to hide.
Discussed case updates.
Reviewed reports.
Made suggestions.
Normal.
Too normal.
If Brian hadn't seen the background patterns…
If he hadn't seen the access log…
He would've trusted him without question.
"Dawson," Jack called casually. "You coming to the briefing?"
"In a minute."
Jack studied him briefly.
Then walked off.
Brian exhaled slowly.
The longer this continued—
The more dangerous it became.
Carbondale
Molly zoomed in on one of the old digital photos again.
She wasn't looking at Jay this time.
She was looking at the metadata.
Date.
Time.
GPS stamp.
Most of the location tags were disabled.
Except one.
A faint coordinate embedded in the background of a lake photo from two years ago.
Her heart skipped.
It wasn't clear enough to pinpoint a specific address—
But it narrowed to a region.
Outside Branson.
Near Table Rock Lake.
She immediately forwarded the file to Brian.
Subject line:
This might be nothing.
Brian's Office
He opened the attachment and froze.
Coordinates.
Not exact.
But close enough to create a search radius.
He pulled up property records quietly.
Cabins.
Lake houses.
Short-term rentals.
Then he cross-referenced ownership records.
Nothing under Jack's name.
Of course not.
He broadened the search.
Family members.
Shell LLCs.
Out-of-state property purchases.
He couldn't dig too aggressively.
Every database query left footprints.
But one property stood out.
Recently purchased.
Cash transaction.
Owned by an LLC registered in Indiana.
Indiana.
Jack's previous department.
Brian leaned back slowly.
Still not proof.
But the smoke was becoming visible.
The Meeting
Captain Reynolds didn't look pleased when Brian closed the office door behind him.
Chief Halbrook stood near the window, arms crossed.
"You said this was urgent," the Captain said.
"It is."
Brian placed a folder on the desk.
Not dramatic.
Not accusatory.
Careful.
"Before I say anything else," he began, "I need to know this stays in this room."
The Chief's eyes narrowed slightly.
"That depends on what you're about to say."
Brian slid the printed reports across the desk.
"Jack Davis."
Silence.
The Captain stiffened slightly.
"Be careful, Dawson."
"I am."
He walked them through it step by step.
Carbondale complaints.
Indiana tenure.
Tennessee internal review.
Access log anomaly.
Threat language referencing 'access.'
A recent database hit on Sarah Johnson's number.
He didn't speculate.
He didn't accuse.
He laid out patterns.
When he finished, the room was silent.
The Chief moved first.
"We were warned," he said quietly.
Brian's eyes lifted.
"Warned?"
"When Davis transferred here," the Captain added, "there were whispers. Nothing actionable. Nothing provable."
"About what?"
"Temper. Boundary issues. Women."
Brian's stomach tightened.
"Why wasn't that escalated?"
"It was unsubstantiated," the Chief replied firmly. "No charges. No sustained complaints."
"But you flagged it."
"Yes."
The Captain leaned forward.
"And we also flagged you."
Brian blinked.
"Me?"
"We needed to know if this was personal," the Chief said. "If you were compromised."
Brian absorbed that.
"And?"
The Chief held his gaze.
"You're not."
The Captain nodded.
"We trust you."
The weight of that landed heavily.
Brian exhaled slowly.
"There may be more," he said quietly.
"More what?" the Captain asked.
"More girls."
The room went still.
"Based on pattern behavior," Brian continued. "Short tenures. Escalation. Transfer before discipline."
The Chief's jaw tightened.
"You're suggesting serial behavior."
"I'm suggesting we can't rule it out."
Silence again.
Finally, the Captain spoke.
"This does not leave this room."
"Agreed," the Chief added. "Not until we have concrete evidence."
"If he suspects anything," Brian said quietly, "Sarah's life could be in immediate danger."
The Chief nodded once.
"You continue quietly."
"Discreetly," the Captain added.
"No internal flags that could tip him off."
Brian nodded.
"We will monitor system access," the Chief said. "But we will not trigger an inquiry yet."
"And if you're wrong?" the Captain asked carefully.
Brian met his eyes.
"Then I take full responsibility."
The Chief studied him for a long moment.
Then said:
"Find her."
Cabin – Night
Jack stood on the dock, staring out over the water.
Calm again.
Composed.
The wind brushed lightly across the surface of the lake.
Inside, Sarah twisted her wrists slowly against the tape seam.
Millimeter by millimeter.
Her breathing is steady.
Her mind is sharp.
He thought isolation broke people.
He thought control was absolute.
He was wrong.
And somewhere miles away—
Brian now had quiet authorization.
Not to accuse.
Not to arrest.
But to hunt.
And neither Jack nor Sarah knew—
The game had officially begun.