Page 22 of In the Dark of the Past

When they were both gone, silence settled over us.

“What the hell was that? Anyone else feel like that was weird?” Myra asked.

“The Civic Committee?” Autumn repeated, looking at River. “Did you know about that?”

She shook her head slowly. “No. My mom didn’t talk about the things she did for the city much. Especially not after she…not after things started to get bad.”

“I don’t like this,” Cade muttered. “Any of it. It all feels slimy somehow. Then again, when don’t politics feel that way?”

We all laughed.

I looked at River. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quickly.

I didn’t believe her. This was the most uncomfortable I’d seen her since she got back, and that was saying something, given our double-punch reunion. I found I hated it. I hated the way Grant had looked at her. The way Sean had spoken to her.

I hated that my instinct to shield her was still intact. Still visceral.

Even after all this time.

The questions were stacking up. And I suddenly had the sickening sense that we weren’t just digging into a cold case.

We were stepping into something still burning.

Chapter Nine

River

The echo of Lucas Grant’s voice still clung to me like smoke.

But let’s not get too caught up in the past, shall we?

He’d said it with a smile, the kind meant for polite company. But beneath the charm, there was something sharp. Something cold.

He’d known exactly what he was doing.

I’d been replaying that interaction since I’d left the Jubilee, cycling through my memories like a tape that refused to rewind all the way. I barely remembered the fireworks. Or even getting home. I must’ve fed Fox—my new Maine coon/red tabby mix and Libby’s idea of a you-survived-your-first-MotMC-meeting gift—because he was now curled at the edge of the couch, smacking in his sleep and blissfully unaware of my inner spiral. When she brought him over, I’d thought he might also be a little apology for her not warning me that Finn was part of the group. Honestly? I didn’t care. He was exactly what I needed, and I loved him already. He had me wrapped around his polydactyl toes.

I’d tried, but sleep had been impossible. So, despite it being barely dawn, I’d pulled out the bin.

The one I’d sworn I wouldn’t open again.

Inside were pieces of a life I’d boxed up long ago. My father’s legal pads with half-formed thoughts and chicken-scratch timelines, some personal items from both of my parents, yellowed newspaper clippings, my mom’s old faculty ID, a stack of dusty PTA newsletters, and a bunch of other bric-a-brac I wasn’t sure why they’d kept.

I spread it all across the living room floor, searching for...I didn’t even know what. A thread. A clue. A slip of paper that might explain what Sean had been talking about. Or what Grant seemed to be trying to warn me away from.

Because none of this felt like a coincidence. And deep down, I already knew it wasn’t.

My fingers paused on a faded flyer, tucked between two manila folders:

Civic Engagement Initiative – Maple Ridge Leadership Committee

Well, what do you know?

My mom’s name was handwritten in the corner. Alongside it was Mayor Grant’s—though I’m pretty sure he was only a judge at the time. There were also two others I didn’t recognize.

Why had Mom never mentioned this? She used to talk about teaching, her students, lesson plans, and school board drama. And I knew she’d always helped with things like the Jubilee and the church bake sales and whatnot. But never anything like this. Or maybe she had, and I just hadn’t cared enough to listen.