The roads cleared by morning.
The team bused back in three vehicles, the blizzard reduced overnight to slush and apology, and Sienna sat near the front with her phone open to Grant’s 3 a.m. text and her coffee going cold in her hand.
Someone broke into Hank’s study. I think you need to know.
She’d replied at six: How do you know?
He hadn’t answered.
Dean sat two rows back. They hadn’t spoken since the hotel. They’d checked out before dawn in the careful, professional silence of two people who had almost crossed a line and had agreed, without saying so, to step back from it.
Sienna was getting very tired of carefully behaving.
The bus ride was three hours. She spent the first hour staring at Grant’s text, the second thinking about Dean’s unfinished sentence — I wanted to give it to y
