Jack knew something had shifted.
He couldn't name it.
Couldn't point to anything specific.
But the lake felt different when he stepped onto the dock that afternoon. The air is heavier. The silence is sharper.
He scanned the opposite shoreline before starting the boat.
Nothing.
Just trees.
Still.
He told himself it was paranoia.
He had been careful.
Always careful.
When he reached the cabin and stepped inside, Sarah was sitting exactly where he had left her.
Wrists bound.
Back straight.
Eyes watchful.
"You're quiet," he said.
"So are you," she replied.
His gaze flicked briefly toward the window.
"Did you see anything yesterday?"
Her heart nearly stuttered—but she didn't let it show.
"Like what?"
"Movement."
She shook her head slowly.
"No."
He studied her longer than usual.
Then nodded.
"Good."
But as he retaped her wrists—tighter than before—his movements were sharper. Less patient.
He locked the door behind him and stepped outside again, scanning the shoreline once more.
Something was off.
He just didn't know what.
Back in town, Brian stood in the Chief's office, the video paused on the cabin window frame.
Chief Halbrook watched it in silence.
"You're sure that's him?" the Chief asked.
"Yes."
"And the girl in the window?"
"Not confirmed. But I'd bet my badge."
The Chief exhaled slowly.
"You understand if we move without airtight confirmation and we're wrong—"
"I know."
"And if we're right and he panics—"
"I know."
Silence stretched between them.
"What's your plan?" the Chief asked.
"Surveillance. Confirm occupancy. Confirm Sarah."
"No warrant yet."
"Not until we're certain."
The Chief nodded once.
"You'll get one shot at this."
"I know."
"And Dawson?"
"Yes, sir."
"If he realizes you're onto him… he won't hesitate."
Brian held his gaze.
"I'm counting on that."
Later that afternoon, Brian leaned casually against the counter near the bullpen as Jack poured coffee.
"You ever fish that lake?" Brian asked lightly.
Jack glanced up.
"Sometimes."
"I was thinking about getting back into it."
Jack shrugged. "Good stress relief."
Brian nodded. "You've got a cabin out there, right?"
Jack didn't hesitate.
"Yeah."
"Lucky."
"It's nothing fancy."
"Which side?"
"The far side. North bank." Jack sipped his coffee. "You need a boat to get to it."
Brian kept his expression neutral.
"Private dock?"
"Yeah."
"You don't use it much?"
"Been having some work done," Jack replied smoothly. "Haven't thought about fishing."
Brian nodded as if it meant nothing.
"Maybe we should go out sometime."
Jack smiled faintly.
"Maybe."
The moment lingered.
Two men.
Both measuring.
Only one is aware of the game.
"Another time," Brian added casually.
"Sure," Jack said.
But his eyes sharpened just slightly.
Surface tension.
That evening, Brian waited.
He let Jack leave first.
Gave it ten minutes.
Then followed.
Far enough back not to raise suspicion.
Jack took the same road Molly had followed.
Same turn.
Same narrow lane.
Same private dock.
Brian didn't pull in.
He kept driving.
Counted the seconds before Jack's boat engine started.
He parked at a different overlook this time, using binoculars from his glove compartment.
Through the lens—
He saw it clearly.
The boat crossing.
The dock.
The cabin.
He tracked the movement carefully until Jack disappeared inside.
There.
Confirmation.
Exact location.
Coordinates locked into memory.
His chest tightened.
Sarah was within reach now.
But so was disaster.
Inside the cabin, Sarah heard something different that night.
Not Jack.
Not the wind.
Something faint.
An echo across the water.
An engine?
She held her breath.
Listened.
But it faded.
She closed her eyes.
Someone had been near.
She could feel it.
And that meant one thing—
Hope.
Jack entered the room abruptly.
"You look different," he said.
"How?"
"Like you're waiting."
Her pulse quickened.
"For what?"
He stepped closer.
"For someone."
"I've always been waiting."
His jaw tightened.
He didn't like that answer.
Back at the apartment, Molly paced.
"You found it?" she asked the moment Brian walked in.
"Yes."
Her eyes widened.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
Relief flooded her face.
Then fear replaced it.
"What now?"
"Now we move carefully."
"How careful?"
"Careful enough that he doesn't suspect."
She nodded.
But she was trembling.
"You can't go near that lake again," he added firmly.
"I won't."
"You already got lucky once."
Her jaw tightened slightly.
"I know."
He stepped closer.
"This is the part where he becomes dangerous."
"More dangerous?"
"Yes."
Because now—
The net was tightening.
And predators felt nets.
Even if they couldn't see them.
That night, Jack sat alone at the cabin table.
He hadn't brought Sarah food yet.
He was thinking.
Something had shifted.
He replayed the last few days in his mind.
Molly is in town.
Brian is asking about fishing.
The feeling at the dock.
His jaw flexed.
He stood abruptly and walked into the bedroom.
Sarah looked up.
"Why were you smiling earlier?" he asked.
"I wasn't."
"You were."
He stepped closer.
"Did someone come here?"
"No."
He searched her face.
Looking for lies.
Looking for betrayal.
Looking for weakness.
He didn't find it.
But doubt had planted itself.
And doubt was dangerous.
Back in town, Brian stared at the lake map spread across his table.
Tomorrow, he would move to the next step.
Not arrest.
Not confrontation.
But positioning.
And somewhere deep inside him—
He felt it.
The fracture line is forming.
The pressure is building.
It wouldn't take much now.
One wrong look.
One wrong word.
One wrong move.
And Jack would snap.
Chapter Twenty was coming.
And it would not be quiet.