Brian didn't compare the photos at the station.
He waited until he was home.
Laptop open.
Lights low.
Silence.
He pulled up the image Molly had sent — the clearest one of Jay's face. Grainy. Slightly angled. Not enough to be definitive.
Then he opened an archived department photo of Jack from three years ago — taken shortly after his transfer from Carbondale to Branson.
He placed them side by side.
Zoomed in.
Eyes.
Nose.
Jawline.
Similar.
Not identical.
But similar enough to unsettle him.
He leaned back slowly.
Plenty of men shared those features.
It wasn't proof.
It wasn't even evidence.
It was a coincidence.
It had to be.
He closed the images.
Then opened them again.
The metallic watch in Jay's photo caught his eye once more.
Standard-issue tactical watch.
Many officers wore them.
Still.
Brian shut the laptop and rubbed his face.
He couldn't move on suspicion alone.
If he accused Jack without proof, the entire case would collapse.
And if he was wrong—
He'd lose his partner.
If he was right—
He'd lose far more.
The next morning at the station, everything felt normal.
Too normal.
Jack stood by the coffee machine.
"Morning," he said casually.
"Morning."
"You look like you didn't sleep."
"Didn't."
"Johnson case?"
"Yeah."
Jack nodded sympathetically. "These ones get under your skin."
Brian studied him carefully.
Calm.
Relaxed.
Unbothered.
"You ever work a stalking case?" Brian asked lightly.
Jack glanced at him.
"Couple."
"Hard to prove."
"Almost impossible," Jack said. "Unless the victim pushes it."
He took a sip of coffee.
"Why?"
"Just thinking out loud."
Jack shrugged. "Most of them fade out."
Fade out.
Brian held his expression steady.
"And the ones that don't?"
Jack's eyes met his briefly.
"They escalate."
Then he walked off.
Brian stood there a moment longer.
Escalate.
That evening, Brian called Molly.
He didn't wait for her to reach out this time.
She answered on the first ring.
"Hi."
Her voice sounded exhausted.
"You okay?"
"I've been better."
He leaned back in his chair, phone to his ear.
"Tell me what's going on."
She hesitated.
"I can't focus. I sit in class, and all I can think about is where she is. If she's cold. If she's hurt."
Her voice cracked slightly.
Brian's jaw tightened.
"We're working every angle."
"I know you are."
"And I'm not stopping."
There was silence on the line.
Then softly, "I believe you."
The weight of that settled in his chest.
They talked longer than usual that night.
Not just about the case.
About Sarah growing up.
About Carbondale.
About why Molly chose her major.
He found himself listening more than speaking.
And she found herself relaxing in a way she hadn't since the disappearance.
"You don't have to carry this alone," he said quietly.
"I feel like I should."
"You're her sister. Not her rescuer."
"But what if you can't find her?"
He paused.
Then answered honestly.
"Then I keep looking."
Another silence.
Warmer this time.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For caring."
He didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was—
It had stopped being just about a case.
Later that week, Molly and her friends gathered again in Sarah's dorm.
Papers spread everywhere.
Old notebooks open.
More photos scanned.
Robyn sat back in her chair.
"Molly… you have to promise something."
"What?"
"If this gets dangerous, you let the police handle it."
Molly looked up sharply.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Claire said carefully, "if this guy is who we think he is, he's not normal. And if he finds out you're digging—"
"I don't care."
"We do," Robyn insisted. "You're not trained for this."
Molly's eyes welled up.
"She's my sister."
"And we love her too," Claire said gently. "But you can't put yourself in danger."
Molly nodded slowly.
But inside—
She already knew she was going back to Branson when the semester ended.
Whether they approved or not.
Back in Branson, Brian sat at his desk reviewing old Carbondale personnel photos again.
He zoomed in on Jack's older image.
Then reopened Jay's.
The similarities lingered.
Enough to disturb him.
Not enough to act.
His office door opened.
Jack leaned in casually.
"You ever get the feeling," Jack said, "that some cases want to stay unsolved?"
Brian looked up.
"No."
Jack smiled faintly. "You're optimistic."
"Or stubborn."
"Same thing sometimes."
Jack stepped inside.
"You and the sister talk much?"
Brian's pulse ticked up slightly.
"Why?"
"Just asking. She seems attached to you."
Brian kept his tone neutral.
"She's desperate."
Jack nodded slowly.
"Don't let her drag you in too deep."
There it was again.
A subtle warning.
Or projection.
Brian met his eyes evenly.
"I can handle it."
Jack studied him for a long second.
Then nodded and left.
Brian exhaled quietly.
The conversation had felt ordinary.
But underneath—
Something else moved.
That night, Molly called him instead.
"I found something strange," she said immediately.
His body went alert.
"What?"
"In one of the screenshots from two years ago… Jay mentioned someone having 'access.' At the time, Sarah thought he was bluffing."
Brian sat up straighter.
"Access to what?"
"She never knew. But now…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
"You need to send that to me," he said calmly.
"I already did."
He opened his email.
There it was.
You'd be surprised who has access to more than you think.
His jaw tightened slightly.
Smoke.
More smoke.
"Molly," he said carefully, "you need to promise me something."
"What?"
"You don't confront anyone."
"Why would I—?"
"Just promise me."
She hesitated.
"Okay."
"And if you decide to come back to Branson… you tell me first."
She went quiet.
"You knew I was thinking about that."
"I had a feeling."
"I hate being here," she admitted.
"I know."
Another pause.
"Brian?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think she's alive?"
He looked at the wall across from him.
Thought of the lake.
The woods.
The silence.
"Yes," he said firmly.
He didn't know if it was true.
But he needed it to be.
And so did she.