Page 37 of In the Dark of the Past

For once—miraculously—she listened.

A door creaked inside. Then a voice came, sharp and annoyed. “…too close. They found her.”

River’s eyebrows snapped together. My gut tightened.

“They were supposed to handle it,” another voice said—the taller figure, judging by the silhouette moving inside. “Melissa’s already shredding what she can.”

“Melissa?” River mouthed.

I shook my head. Not now.

“I tried,” the first said, defensive. “The scares haven’t worked.”

“Then fix it. Or you’re done.”

My hand curled into a fist against the dumpster’s rusted edge.

Another voice—this one low and gravelly—cut in. “I didn’t sign on for murder.”

“You took the money,” the second snapped. “The Fund’s not a charity.”

My breath stuttered. River’s fingers found the back of my jacket, anchoring. The Benevolence Fund. Had to be. And murder?

Every worst-case scenario slithered into my mind at once—Eleanor, River’s mom, the weird gaps in financial records, the blackmail structure we’d only half uncovered. And now someone else⁠—

River leaned closer. “They’re talking about scaring someone. Trying to push her.”

“Or silence her,” I whispered.

A clatter inside drew our attention. The hooded figure emerged just long enough to spray another red eye symbol across a rotted exterior plank. Quick strokes, practiced. Like it was code. Definitely a message.

The taller figure paced near the doorway. “Callahan’s not stupid.”

My heart slammed so hard I went still. River’s hand tightened.

The first voice lowered, barely audible. “Then redirect him. Or that accident your wife could so easily have…gets real.”

Ice crawled down my spine. My throat closed.

My name.

That oddly familiar gait.

The tone.

Recognition flickered on the edge of my mind like a faulty lightbulb but wouldn’t click.

River’s breath hitched. Her anger was a livewire against my back. Protective. Fierce. And afraid for me.

A set of headlights swept across the lot, shattering the darkness. I ducked, pulling River with me. A county-plated vehicle rolled in and idled beside the Hall. Two new figures stepped out, silhouettes sharp against the floodlight.

“What the hell is this?” River whispered.

“Something organized,” I said, voice barely audible. “Something bigger than we thought.”

They spoke to the first two, but we were too far away, and the wind carried the wrong direction. When they disappeared inside the building, I jerked my head toward the trees.

“Go. Now.”