Page 14 of In the Dark of the Past

Libby gave my shoulder a soft squeeze. “Just…go easy on each other, okay? You’ve both bled for this town in different ways.”

I nodded, but my gaze strayed to him again, the ache I’d thought I buried a long time ago blooming to life once more. Slow and steady, but impossible to ignore.

Chapter Six

Finn

Tuesday nights at Donovan’s had a rhythm. Old wood, countryside charm, classic rock, and beer that was colder than it had any right to be in a town like Maple Ridge. Most of the bar’s regulars had their spots, their tells, and their drinks. The bartender generally knew when to bring the next round without a word.

Me? I just needed quiet—well, as quiet as an Irish pub could be. And maybe a moment to forget that River was back.

But forgetting her was impossible.

Every time the door creaked open, I looked up. Expecting her. Dreading it. Hoping for it, maybe, if I were being honest with myself.

I’d caught her watching me at the meeting, then again at the café. That same sharp stare that used to pin me in place when we first got together. Back then, it meant trust, curiosity, and the kind of easy comfort that never had to be explained. Now? It was a cocktail of hurt and guarded strength that hit harder than any right hook.

She looked like she didn’t know whether to throw her drink at my head or memorize the sound of my laugh.

Or maybe that was just me trying to remember what hers used to sound like. The way it used to punch through the silence in my chest and make things feel lighter.

“You’re doing that thing,” my older brother said, sliding onto the stool beside me and signaling the bartender.

“What thing?”

“The brooding hero-cop thing.”

I gave Sean a sideways glance. “Aren’t you late to some political fundraiser where people pretend to like each other for free shrimp and cheese?”

“Nah. That’s Thursdays,” he said, flashing me a grin. He had the same gray-green eyes I did, the same strong jaw, but where I kept things close, Sean let charm spill out of him like it was on tap. “Besides, you asked me to meet you. I figured it wasn’t just for brotherly bonding.”

“It’s not,” I said, sliding the Jenkins folder toward him. “This is quiet. Off the record.”

Sean’s grin dimmed. He flipped open the folder and started scanning. “I remember Eleanor Jenkins. The whisper campaign against her was brutal. The school board fired her after the anonymous complaints came in, right?”

“That’s the official story.”

“And the unofficial?”

I took a sip of beer. “Dunno. But something stinks. Whispers of HR interference, redacted memos, missing reports… Looks like she had enemies. Quiet ones. Likely powerful ones.”

Sean flipped through a few more pages and whistled under his breath. “This isn’t just about a teacher being forced out. This smells like political rot somehow. And something that runs deep.” He flipped through a few more pages and ran his finger over a red eye sketched on some paperwork.

“I was actually hoping you’d say it smelled like a dead end.”

He looked up. “Yeah? You want me to leave it alone?”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s something I need to look into. I just wanted to know if you’ve heard anything. Knew who could be pulling the strings.”

Sean closed the folder and tapped his fingers on the bar top. “My guess? Someone at the top.”

My spine straightened. “That’s a big accusation to lob casually.”

“I’m not lobbing. I’m sounding the alarm.” He leaned in. “Listen. There’s chatter. The bigwigs have their fingers in all sorts of pies. Real estate, private schools, zoning decisions. And then there are the pet projects. Most keep their names clean, but that’s just ’cause they have people to scrub them.”

I sat back, the bar suddenly too loud, too warm. River used to joke that I could smell bullshit a mile away. She wasn’t wrong. And this whole thing? It reeked.

“So…what? Eleanor see something she wasn’t supposed to?” I asked.