Page 16 of In the Dark of the Past

I didn’t argue. Cade’s mind worked differently than others. It was sharper. Moved in several directions at once. The sheriff’s department had been lucky to have him. But as his friend, I absolutely understood why he’d retired early and bought the bar.

“You free tomorrow?” I asked.

“I can be. What are we doing?”

“Running down some leads.”

His eyes lit up. “Actually, I’ve got an idea. The school board. Eleanor’s complaints, those board meeting minutes…if she rattled cages, there might be a paper trail.”

“You think we can get access?”

“We happen to know someone with keys to the archives.”

“Autumn.”

“Exactly.”

My phone buzzed again.

LINTON: You coming? We’ll explain when you get here.

I looked longingly at my half-finished drink. “I gotta move.”

Cade clapped me on the shoulder. “Text me later.”

As I stepped outside, the night air hit like a slap. Crisp. Damp. Full of memories I wished would stay where they originated…in the past.

But in this town, things didn’t stay buried.

At least, not forever.

Chapter Seven

River

After some exchanged texts and video calls, we’d agreed to meet at the trailhead near the old ranger station. It wasn’t exactly a casual hike. This was where Eleanor Jenkins’ car had been found all those years ago. No signs of struggle. No phone. No trace. Just a locked sedan off a fire road and more questions than answers.

The path behind the station was narrow and overgrown, shaded by tall pines and heavy with the kind of silence that pressed in on you the deeper you went.

“Next time, we meet somewhere with air conditioning,” Myra muttered, swatting at a mosquito.

“You suggested the trail,” Nivea said, shaking her head with a grin. “Said it would help us clear our heads and walk through the case.”

“I meant digitally.”

I smiled, falling into step behind them. Truth was, I didn’t mind being out here. The woods were quiet in a way the town wasn’t. Out here, there was no Finn. No lingering glances. No history pressing in from every side.

We walked for a while in silence, broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel and the occasional comment about a low branch or tricky footing. When the trail opened up to a small overlook, we paused to catch our breath.

“Eleanor’s car was found near here, right?” I asked, scanning the tree line.

“Just off the old fire road up ahead,” Myra said, adjusting her ball cap. “GPS pinged her phone for the last time not far from this ridge.”

Nivea squinted toward the break in the trees. “So weird. It’s like she just vanished mid-step.”

“Yeah,” Myra said, her tone flat. “Just that abandoned car and radio silence.”

We stood there for a moment, letting the weight of that settle.