I arch a brow. “Yeah?”

“You could be a mechanic. Then it’d smell like grease and regret.”

A short chuckle escapes before I can stop it. “I’ll stick with coffee.”

Silence creeps back in, but this time it’s not as heavy. Still, tension lingers at the edges—an avoidance we both share.

“You good?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Yeah.” His response is too quick, too sharp around the edges to be true. Then, after a beat, he exhales, long and slow, “It’s just… everything feels connected, you know? Like all these loose threads are starting to tangle together, and I don’t know if I’m ready for what we’re about to find.”

His words settle like a stone in my chest because—yeah. I get that. More than he knows.

“Join the club,” I murmur, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “We’ll figure it out. We have to.”

I don’t know if I say it for him or myself. Maybe both.

By the time we pull into the sheriff’s department parking lot, the air feels heavier. The building looms ahead, washed in that sickly fluorescent glow that makes everything look off, like a place caught between worlds.

It’s too quiet.

Not the usual quiet that comes with the late hour, but the kind that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The kind that makes you feel like you’re being watched.

The parking lot is almost empty, but it doesn’t feel abandoned. It feels like the moment before a storm breaks like the whole town is holding its breath.

I park the truck and cut the engine, but neither of us moves right away.

“This is gonna be bad, isn’t it?” Bennett asks, his voice quieter than before.

I glance at him, then back at the building.

“Yeah,” I say finally, the weight of the night settling deep in my bones. “I think it is.”

And then, without another word, we get out and head inside.

The moment we step through the doors, the scent of burnt coffee and old paper hits me—a mix of stale caffeine and the kind of institutional air that lingers in places like this. The sheriff’s department always feels the same: dim, slightly too cold, with a strange hum of energy beneath the surface, like a living thing waiting for the next big piece of bad news to roll in.

Not that anything happens in a town like Shadow Grove.

At the front desk, Nancy barely looks up from her magazine, her manicured fingers idly flipping the page. She’s been working here forever, knows everything that happens in this town before it even happens, and somehow, she still has time to keep up with the latest celebrity scandals.

Finally, she glances up, lips quirking in a knowing smile. “Back at it again?”