Page 66 of When the Smoke Clears

We relock everything, wipe prints, and leave the lab exactly as we found it.

Almost.

We’re steps away from the stairwell when a voice calls, “Hey, Sheriff. What are you doing down here?”

I school my features before I turn.

Tim stands at the end of the hall, hands on his belt, expression open. Good deputy. Just doing his job.

“Thought Doc might be working late,” I say. “I wanted to ask him about a case. No sign of him.”

Tim nods easily. “Sometimes I swing through, too. Just to make sure everything’s secure.”

His gaze flicks to Gabe. There’s a question there, but not suspicion.

“Appreciate you keeping watch,” I say. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Have a good night, Sheriff,” he says, and heads for the stairs.

We slip out of the hospital into the cool night.

“I’m meeting my contact in an hour,” Gabe murmurs as we cross the parking lot. “I’ll text when I’m heading back.”

I clap his shoulder. “Thank you. For all of it.”

He gives me a half smile.

“Just doing my part to keep your love life complicated,” he says, then slides into his car and pulls away.

I find Isla at a corner booth in the diner, just like Gabe said. Empty plate. Half a mug of cocoa, skin forming on top.

She’s staring at the door when I walk in, shoulders tense. When she recognizes me, some of that tension leaks out in a visible exhale. She sits a little straighter, tugging her sleeves over her hands.

“Everything okay?” she asks as I reach the table.

“Yeah,” I say. It’s not, but she doesn’t need more weight tonight. “Let’s get you home. You need sleep.”

She nods, sliding out of the booth. As she steps past me, my hand finds the small of her back almost on its own. I feel the heat of her through the thin fabric.

She pauses for a second at the contact, like she’s not sure if she should lean into it or step away. She doesn’t step away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly as we walk toward the door. “For…all of this.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine. There’s gratitude there, yes, but something else flickering under it, something softer. Something that makes my chest ache.

“It’s about time we get to the bottom of it,” I reply.

Outside, the air is cold enough to sting. I open the truck door for her. She grabs the handle and hesitates, looking at me over her shoulder.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

She searches my face for a long second, like she’s trying to memorize the shape of this moment. “Just…don’t do anything too reckless,” she says. “I need you alive for at least another week.”

My mouth twitches. “Minimum.”

Her lips curl into the ghost of a smile before she climbs in.