Detective Crane had left Greyson – or at least, that's what everyone was meant to believe.
The truth was far more calculated.
Crane never truly trusted Jake. From the very first moment he'd met the boy, something had felt... rehearsed. Too perfect. Too protective. He claimed to find Rose after the attack. Claimed to be nearby just in time. But Crane knew: Coincidence was a lazy lie in a town like Greyson.
So he staged his departure.
Early that morning, he made sure Aunt Marian saw him drive away. He even stopped to wave at the baker on Main Street. But just outside town, his car turned back, looping through a dirt path only locals would know. He contacted a small task force he'd been working with – quietly, off the record. He needed people who wouldn't ask too many questions. People he could trust.
He gave them one name: Jake Barnes.
Over the past few days, Crane had secretly reviewed surveillance footage from the school, from surrounding shops, even neighbors near Whitlock's house. And in one blurry, rain-soaked clip from the night of Ms. Moore's disappearance – he saw it.
A figure dragging something.
Lightning lit up the scene for a fraction of a second – but it was enough.
A tattoo on the figure's wrist.
The same symbol Rose would later draw without realizing its meaning.
The serpent.
Crane pieced it together.
Jake wasn't just protecting Rose – he was manipulating the narrative, twisting her silence into cover for his own secrets.
So Crane set the trap.
He left Rose in the house, knowing Jake would return. He placed two officers nearby – hidden in an abandoned house just across the street, with eyes on every window. Crane kept his radio on silent, pacing in his temporary hideout just a block away, sketchbook copies in hand – Rose's drawings. The proof was there. The fear. The message.
Then the signal came.
"Jake entered the house. Alone. Rose is in her room."
Crane moved instantly.
Rain poured from the sky, masking the sound of their boots. They reached the porch without being heard. One officer went around back, the other stayed at the side door.
Then – Crane burst through the front, weapon drawn, heart racing.
The stairs creaked under his feet as he climbed. He heard Jake's voice. Calm. Manipulative. The sound of fear in Rose's silence.
That's when Crane gave the order.
"Jake Carter! Step away from the girl!"
In the moment that followed, Crane saw something shatter in Jake's eyes—not fear, but recognition. He had known this was coming. But he hadn't expected it so soon.
Jake bolted for the window – but the officers were faster.
Crane lunged, tackling him just as Jake reached for something hidden beneath his jacket – a blade. Small, sharp, and unmistakably real.
The struggle was brutal. Jake thrashed like a wild animal, snarling and kicking, but Crane was stronger. Older, yes – but driven by something deeper than rage – justice.
It took two men to hold Jake down.
Crane cuffed him himself.
"You're done," he said quietly, as Jake spat blood onto the floor.
Jake only smiled.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with."
Crane stared at him for a long moment.
Then whispered, "I think I'm starting to."