Page 73 of Devoured By the Forbidden Mountain Man

The officers approached without rushing, one older man I recognized from town and a younger woman who stayed slightly behind him while taking in Gavin, Meredith, Georgia, and me.

I released Gavin’s forearm before they reached us.

“He hasn’t resisted,” I told them. “I called after confirming his identity and the active warrant. There has also been a voluntary statement about the underlying homicide since dispatch was contacted.”

The older officer’s attention moved toward Meredith without letting Gavin out of his awareness. “Are you the person who made that statement?”

Meredith nodded. She had gone pale again, but her voice stayed steady. “Yes. I need to speak with you, but I want an attorney before I give a full formal statement.”

“That’s fine. We’ll deal with one thing at a time.”

The officer asked Gavin to keep his hands visible while his partner confirmed the warrant. I stepped farther back, moving out of the center as soon as law enforcement had control of the scene. Georgia stayed beside me.

When the confirmation came through and the female officer removed a set of cuffs from her belt, Georgia’s breathing changed.

Yesterday in my office, I had promised I would not shut her out because I thought watching would be too difficult. Remembering that promise while the cuffs closed around Gavin’s wrists was harder than making it had been.

My hand came to the middle of Georgia’s back.

She did not look away.

Gavin followed instructions without making the officers work for his cooperation. He turned, placed his hands where directed, and stood quietly while they secured him. There was no reason for additional force, and none was used.

Once the officers had him, my responsibility ended.

I kept my attention on Georgia.

Her face had gone tight around the mouth, but she remained steady. When she finally turned toward me, the hurt in her eyes was exactly what I had known might be there.

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

She pressed her lips together, then looked back toward Gavin. “I’m not angry that you told me the truth yesterday.”

That mattered more than any reassurance I could have asked from her.

I rubbed my palm once over her back and left it there.

Meredith stepped toward the older officer before anyone began moving Gavin toward the front. “I need you to know what happened to Brad before you leave with him.”

The officer glanced toward Gavin, then back at her. “You said you want counsel before a full statement. You can still tell me enough now to preserve what you’re volunteering, but I’m not going to push you into details you’ve already said you want an attorney present for.”

Meredith told him she had stabbed Brad during the second attack while wearing gloves and had omitted that encounter from her original statement; she also said Gavin learned the truth after making bail.

The officer listened without telling her what the legal outcome would be. When she finished, he asked whether she felt safe now and whether she needed medical attention because of her pregnancy or the stress of the night.

Meredith said she was safe and did not need medical care.

“My husband knows I’m here,” she added. “I need to call him.”

“You should.”

The officer arranged for Meredith to use the small office while contact was made with counsel. I gave him the information about Gavin’s old recovery file and told him it was secured at my field office. He took what he needed for follow-up without asking me to turn the hallway into a seven-year case review.

That was how I preferred it. This was no longer mine to solve, and the knowledge landed strangely.

I had carried Gavin Dean’s disappearance as an unfinished problem for seven years—not every day, and not with the obsession of a man who had no other work, but enough that I kept the file when plenty of older recoveries had moved into permanent storage or destruction schedules. I had always disliked the way Gavin vanished because it felt too clean for panic. Now I knew why, and the answer did not belong to North Fork; it belonged to the people whose lives had been bent around it.