Page 30 of In the Dark of the Past

What did he mean? For me having to find Eleanor like this? For everything else? For the years that had vanished and the truth that’d never surfaced?

I squeezed his fingers and somehow found my voice. “Let’s bring her home.”

I stayed kneeling beside the shallow grave until Finn touched my shoulder and gently pulled me to my feet.

“We have to secure the scene,” he said. His voice was tight again. Professional now. Detached, even if his eyes said otherwise.

I nodded and carefully stepped back, feeling the cold press of realization sink deeper into my skin.

He made the call, gave coordinates. Then he roped off the area with some emergency tape he always kept in his pack. A half-hour later, the woods were crawling with movement and low, urgent voices.

Eryn was the first to arrive—Finn had called her right after his people. She had her dark hair pulled back in a braid, her eyes sharper than usual. She crouched beside the disturbed soil without a word, her gloved hands already moving.

“This is recent erosion,” she muttered. “But this burial? Old. Too shallow to be professional. But deliberate.” She glanced up at me. “You okay?”

“No,” I said honestly, a little shocked that she’d asked. Cared. We’d only just met, and it had only been once. On video.

She nodded sharply, like that was the right answer.

Myra arrived next, dressed for work in a crisp polo with the county ME seal, her forensics bag already in hand. She stepped up beside Eryn and exhaled slowly.

“How’d you beat me here?” she asked, then focused on what had been unearthed. “Damn,” she said. “You really might have found her.”

The weight of that statement settled like a fog. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed someone else to say it. To believe it.

Before I could process that, footsteps crunched behind me.

“I swear, if you step on evidence—” Myra started, then cut off when she saw who it was.

Nivea and Andra stood at the edge of the clearing behind the tape, both looking slightly winded but alert, press badges visible.

“Relax,” Nivea said, holding up her hands. “We came in the back way. And we didn’t touch or disturb anything.”

“And we’re just observing,” Andra added. “Off the record. At least, for now.”

Part of me was grateful that all of them were here. A good portion of our little club, all standing guard at the beginning of something big.

But then I heard it. Another set of footsteps—too fast, too loud.

Lucas Grant stepped into the clearing like he owned it. “Well, well,” he said with a too-rehearsed calm as he looked at me. “Now this is interesting.”

Finn stood to his full height. “Who called you?”

Grant shrugged. “I was in the area,” he said smoothly. “Town business. I heard the call come through dispatch.” His gaze flicked to me again, then to the disturbed soil, then to Eryn’s slow, methodical movements. “Doesn’t explain what the rest of you are doing here.”

“It’s her,” I said before I could stop myself. “Eleanor Jenkins.”

He stared at me with a look of polite skepticism. “Respectfully, Ms. Bennett, you’re not a forensics expert, nor are you law enforcement.”

“And yet,” Myra said, standing now, arms crossed, “she might be the one who finally got us here. So, maybe ease up on the condescension until we’re sure, yeah?”

Grant raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Not directly, at least.

Just then, Finn’s brother, Sean, arrived. His suit was too clean. His expression careful. And when he stepped forward, he didn’t look at Finn.

Weird.

“Grant,” Sean said, giving him a small nod of acknowledgment. “What’s the situation?”