Brian didn't go looking for another victim.
He stumbled into her.
It happened while cross-referencing Tennessee internal records again—digging through archived disciplinary logs connected to Jack's short tenure there.
Most files were sealed.
But one name appeared repeatedly in informal notes.
Emily Harper.
Age twenty-one.
Reported missing.
Case status: unresolved.
No suspects.
No arrests.
Last seen near a wooded lake property just outside Knoxville.
Brian's pulse slowed.
He opened the archived summary.
Emily had filed an informal complaint weeks before her disappearance.
She claimed someone had been following her.
Watching her.
Calling from blocked numbers.
The complaint was documented—but never escalated.
No formal charges.
No suspect identified.
The case eventually went cold.
Brian leaned back in his chair.
The timing aligned too closely with Jack's final months in Tennessee.
Coincidence.
It had to be.
There was no direct link between Jack and Emily Harper.
No mention of his name.
But the pattern…
Young woman.
Stalking behavior.
No proof.
Escalation.
And then disappearance.
Brian closed the file slowly.
If Sarah wasn't the first—
Then they were dealing with something far more dangerous.
Carbondale
Molly stared at her calendar.
Three more weeks until finals end.
Three weeks of sitting in classrooms pretending her sister wasn't somewhere alone.
She couldn't do it.
She picked up her phone and called Brian.
He answered immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm coming down there."
Silence.
"Molly—"
"I can't stay here," she said, voice shaking but firm. "I need to do something. Anything."
He rubbed his jaw.
"You coming here doesn't guarantee progress."
"I know."
"It could make things more complicated."
"I know."
Her voice cracked slightly.
"But I can't keep standing by."
Brian exhaled slowly.
"You're finishing the semester?"
"Yes."
"Then you come after finals."
"I will."
A pause.
"Where are you staying?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe the same hotel—"
"No."
Her stomach dropped.
"No?"
"You're staying with me."
Silence.
"My guest room," he clarified quickly. "You won't have to pay for a hotel. And I'd rather know where you are."
She hesitated.
"That's not appropriate."
"It's practical."
Another silence.
"I don't want you alone," he said quietly.
The sincerity in his voice settled something in her.
"Okay," she whispered.
"But we set rules," he continued.
"What kind of rules?"
"You don't post anything. Not one thing."
"I wouldn't."
"No social media updates. No vague posts. No location tagging."
"Okay."
"No texting case details to anyone."
"Brian—"
"I mean it. If someone is monitoring anything—"
Her pulse jumped.
"You think he could?"
"I don't know what he's capable of."
Jack had not bugged phones.
Had not monitored desks.
Had not suspected anything.
But Brian couldn't risk assuming that.
"You can tell your friends and family in person where you're going," he continued. "But nothing online. Nothing traceable."
She nodded, even though he couldn't see her.
"I understand."
"And Molly?"
"Yes."
"When you get here… you don't go anywhere alone."
Her breath caught slightly.
"You're serious."
"I've never been more serious."
She swallowed.
"Okay."
Branson – Later That Night
Jack leaned back in his chair at the station, reading through his domestic case notes.
Calm.
Unbothered.
He believed everything was exactly as it should be.
No one had questioned him.
No one had asked unusual things.
No internal reviews triggered.
Brian had been normal.
Professional.
Focused on the ex-boyfriend theory.
Exactly where suspicion should stay.
Jack smirked faintly.
He had always been careful.
Always moved before things could turn against him.
No one suspected him.
No one ever did.
Cabin – Night
Sarah lay awake staring at the ceiling.
She'd managed to create a small tear in the tape again.
Not enough yet.
But progress.
She heard him moving in the other room.
Humming softly.
Like nothing was wrong.
Her cheek had begun to yellow where he'd struck her.
Her wrists burned constantly.
But her mind was sharper now.
He was more volatile after she resisted.
More emotional.
More reactive.
That meant cracks.
And cracks meant opportunity.
Outside, the wind brushed through the trees.
She listened.
Counted.
Planned.
Branson – Brian's Apartment
Brian stood in the spare bedroom.
Clean sheets.
Simple furniture.
Neutral walls.
He hadn't had anyone stay here in years.
He stepped back into the hallway and leaned against the wall.
Bringing Molly here complicated things.
But leaving her alone in Carbondale felt worse.
If Jack discovered she was digging—
If he suspected—
No.
He couldn't think that way.
His phone buzzed.
Another archived Tennessee file had come through.
A second informal complaint from a woman claiming harassment.
No disappearance.
But pattern behavior.
Brian closed his eyes briefly.
How many?
How many before Sarah?
And how many if he didn't stop him?
He opened a secure folder and began organizing everything:
Tennessee complaint logs
Indiana tenure record
Carbondale allegations
Emily Harper's missing file
Sarah Johnson case
Database access anomaly
He was building something solid now.
Carefully.
Brick by brick.
Because when he walked back into the Captain's office—
He needed to bring a wall.
Not suspicion.
And as he turned off the lights for the night—
He realized something else.
If Emily Harper had never been found—
Then Sarah's survival window might be shorter than he wanted to admit.
And somewhere by the lake—
Jack stood on the dock again.
Watching the water.
Completely certain—
He was untouchable.