Page 9 of In the Dark of the Past

Atlas shook his head. “Nah. Her affiliations weren’t the problem. I think she found something she never expected to find. Probably tried to report it. And someone made it all go away.” He looked at Cade. “Got any more of those?” He gestured to the beer.

Cade smiled and stood, walking to a cooler I hadn’t noticed before.

“I’ll take one, too, if you’ve got an extra,” I said.

“Comin’ right up.”

I cleared my throat and looked at Atlas again. “So, this very well may have been something way more sinister than just a missing persons case. But if we’re going to investigate, we need to follow the right channels. No theories without corroboration.” I shot a look at River.

She scoffed. “Says the guy whose job it is to find the truth and look for clues and still manages to miss too much.”

That hit harder than she knew. Still, what had happened between us wasn’t only on me.

“Careful, Bennett,” I said tightly.

“Or what?”

Cade’s easy grin softened the moment as he handed Atlas and me our beers and cut in. “You know, I was at the bar the other night—I mean, obviously, I was at the bar.” He laughed. “Anyway, I heard some chatter about a couple of council members leaning on the school board. Something about donations and ‘development influence.’ Anybody know anything about that?”

River raised an eyebrow. “Development influence? I’m going to echo Rand from earlier and say, what does that even mean?”

“My guess? It’s code for do what we say, or we’ll find someone who will,” Rand said.

Myra leaned forward. “Any names thrown around?” she asked Cade.

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. Not that I caught anyway. Just whispers. But I’d bet a round of shots one of them rhymes with lawn handyman.”

Rand laughed. “Subtle.”

My jaw clenched. “Careful. That’s my brother you’re alluding to.”

The room went quiet.

River blinked. “Your brother?”

“Sean. He was on the board. Oversaw a lot of the personnel reviews back then. Doesn’t mean anything. And he wouldn’t have become the district attorney if he had any skeletons like that in his closet.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?” River echoed. “Sure. Just like it didn’t mean anything when he was ADA and had my dad’s badge stripped.”

“That’s not fair. He⁠—”

“Not fair?” Her voice cracked. “You two got to walk away from that unscathed. My family didn’t.”

“River—” Libby soothed.

“No,” she snapped, whipping her hand through the air, her eyes glassy. “You want to follow evidence, Sheriff? Maybe start with who had the most to lose.”

My heart pounded. I looked at her. Really looked at her. And saw the wreckage I’d helped cause. Even if none of it was intentional. Even if I was only doing my job.

The lump in my throat felt like a boulder. “I never wanted to hurt you,” I said, the truth of the statement cutting on its way out.

“You didn’t have to want it. You just had to do it. Ignore me. And you did that perfectly.” The bitterness in her tone was like acid.

And the silence that followed was deafening, heavy. Final.

I wasn’t sure anyone was breathing.

Libby cleared her throat. “Okay. Um… Maybe we table personal grievances for now, yeah? And focus on the teacher who still doesn’t have justice.”