Page 59 of When the Smoke Clears

Ridiculous—and grounding. Chaos pretending to be order still beats chaos alone.

“If this person’s as smart and organized as they seem,” I say, clicking the marker closed, “we can probably cross Stacy off the villain board.”

Gabe’s eyebrows shoot up. “What in the hell is a villain board?”

“It’s Isla’s softer version of a murder board,” Luke says, arms crossing over his chest as he joins me. “Less gory details, more sarcasm.”

“Okay…” Gabe drags the word out. “Why was Stacy on it?”

“She’s always been one of Luke’s many admirers,” I say, flicking my hand dramatically. “Some of them are borderline obsessive.”

“It’s possible she could have help,” Gabe says. “But to what end?”

I stare at him. “To end up with Luke,” I say. “Some people think if they get rid of the ’problem,’ they magically get the person.”

Luke shakes his head. “I’ve been turning her down for ten years. Removing you from the equation doesn’t suddenly make her attractive to me.”

“You’d be surprised what obsessed people will do,” I mutter.

He points to the board. “She couldn’t have been the one driving the car. She was at the scene too fast to ditch the vehicle.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. Logic says he’s right. Logic doesn’t care that having a tangible villain would be easier than this invisible threat wrapping around my life like smoke.

Gabe rubs his jaw.

“She’s still capable of stirring shit up, but this?” He gestures to the board. “This is beyond office gossip. We’re talking hospital access, controlled fires, sophisticated tech. Stacy still struggles with the copier.”

Despite myself, a tiny huff of laughter escapes me. “Fair point.”

Gabe’s gaze sweeps the room. “So where does that leave us?”

I sink onto the couch with a heavy exhale. “Back at the beginning.”

“Not quite,” Luke says. “We build a list of anyone who might benefit from Isla disappearing—or from hurting someone close to the Wild family. I’ll start digging. Quietly.”

“Agreed,” Gabe says. “We keep this investigation off the books for now. No emails. No official reports. Until we know how far this reaches, we don’t know who we can trust.”

Luke nods, face hardening into the sheriff I watched from afar on Main Street. “We operate from here. Need-to-know only.”

My brief flicker of optimism tightens into a knot in my chest. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” I whisper.

“Stay here,” Gabe says gently. “We’ll work on this.”

Luke’s brow furrows. “You need one of us,” he says, “or one of my deputies with you at all times.”

The words press down on me. I left this town to stop feeling trapped. Now I’m back in a cage—only this one smells like pine and Luke’s detergent.

I open my mouth to argue, but he steps closer, voice dropping.

“You're being here is going to force this person’s hand,” he says. “We can’t control that. What we can control is how exposed you are. Isla, please. Just do this. For me.”

The last two words tug at all the places I’ve tried to cauterize.

“Okay,” I say finally. “For now. But at some point, I have to go back to my life.”

Whatever that even looks like anymore.

“Now that that’s settled,” Gabe says, clapping his hands together, “can we eat? It smells incredible in here.”