Chapter 9: The Ranger's Part

Wyatt's POV

I parked across the street from the bridal shop and left the engine running for the air conditioning.

Melinda had told me to stay away from the fitting.

"If they see you, they'll know I told someone," she had said. "Wait where I can text you."

So I waited, with Biscuit's old tennis ball in the cup holder.

A laptop sat on the passenger seat, and I had not opened it since Wednesday night.

I knew what was on it.

The Mescal lot has a trail camera bolted to a post, and the district keeps the footage for thirty days.

On Wednesday night, after I had written up the rescue, I pulled Wednesday's clip.

I watched the white rental car pull in and a woman in a sun jacket get hauled toward the trail.

I watched the engine start, and I watched her lunge for the door.

I watched it twice, and then I closed the lid.

I should have told her that morning, at the table, when she asked me about cameras.

I had given her the counter instead.

I told myself it was because the footage was district property, and I needed a request.

That was true, and it was not the reason.

The reason was that she had just read forty screens about her own life.

Her hands had been shaking, and she had kept them steady anyway.

I couldn't put a video of the worst hour of her year in her lap on top of that.

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