Page 6 of In the Dark of the Past

“We’re officially voting on a new case tonight,” she said. “But there’s one in particular we’ve been circling for a while. I think it’s time.”

I leaned in. “Do tell.”

“Eleanor Jenkins,” Autumn said, moving closer and tapping the yellow folder on top of Libby’s stack. “English teacher at Maple Ridge High. You may have even known her back in the day. She disappeared fourteen years ago. Her car was found abandoned out near the old Birchwood trailhead. No signs of a struggle. No definitive evidence of foul play.”

“But no contact. And no body,” Rand said as he sat across from us, his floppy, wavy hair dropping into his dark-blue eyes. “Just gone.”

I grabbed the folder from the stack and flipped it open, scanning the first page of the report. “Any suspects?”

“Not officially,” Autumn said. “But the rumor mill’s always pointed to something shady. She filed a harassment complaint three weeks before she vanished, but we haven’t been able to find out more. Weird, right?”

“Who’d she file it against?” I asked, flipping through some more of the paperwork. A photo slipped out. It was the trailhead, a scrap of material snagged on a branch. In the corner, faint but unmistakable, was a red-inked eye, scratched into the bark of the tree.

“Kids’ graffiti?” I asked, pointing at the image, my pulse spiking.

“Probably,” Atlas grunted. “But this town’s got eyes everywhere.”

Rand leaned in, his voice low. “Or it’s that old trail legend. Ghosts that see everything.” He made a spooky noise and gave me jazz fingers. I just shook my head.

Nivea rolled her eyes. “Save the campfire tales, Rand.”

But the photo’s weight lingered. Like Maple Ridge was daring me to dig deeper.

Cade stood, grabbed a box from near the table, and held up a bottle of locally brewed ale, raising a brow at me in question. I nodded, and he handed me one, then passed more around to the rest of the group.

He tossed the now-empty beer box aside and cracked the top of his brew as he sat next to me again, kicking his boots up on the table. “That’s the mystery. The record of it should exist—school board, HR, police, someone. But it’s like it vanished right along with her.”

“I heard the complaint was against a student,” Andra said, her blond hair in two high buns tonight and purple eyeliner bringing out the silver in her gray eyes. “Older. Someone who maybe took the whole teacher-crush thing too far and forced her hand.”

“I also heard it could have been a fellow teacher,” Myra countered. “There were whispers she was planning to expose something about the school itself—or maybe those in it.”

Libby leaned forward, her red hair falling over a shoulder. “I remember Mrs. Jenkins being a bit of a rule-follower. She tutored students for free, helped run the drama club, and did a big mental health awareness push each year. There was something right before she disappeared, I think.”

“You know what?” I said, “I actually kind of remember that. My mom and her were work friends. I totally remember her signature style. She always had those fishtail skirts and lots of jewelry.”

Something snagged at the edge of my memory, though. The last time I’d seen Eleanor Jenkins, she hadn’t been wearing any of that. She’d been standing in our kitchen doorway, speaking to my mother in a low, tight voice that my mother hadn’t used for casual conversation. I’d been old enough to notice the look on her face, yet young enough not to know what it meant.

I’d forgotten that until just now.

Several people around the table nodded—those of us who were in Maple Ridge back then, at least.

“She was looking into some kind of district partnership, wasn’t she?” Andra asked. “Mental health funding, maybe? I can’t remember exactly. I found a few old board minutes where she raised concerns, but they’re vague. A lot of ‘tabled for discussion’ and ‘under internal review’ stuff.”

“Buried,” Myra muttered.

Nivea glanced up from the folder she’d been flipping through. “Anyone connected to that still around?”

“Possibly,” Autumn said. “Some of the names seem to pop up again and again in different capacities. Committees, local nonprofits, development boards. It’s a bit of a maze, but not unusual for such a small town.”

“But definitely worth looking into,” Rand said, his tone serious.

Autumn nodded. “I think so, too. Not saying it’s connected to her disappearance…but something about it feels off.”

“So, are we doing this, then?” Libby asked with a laugh. “Sounds like we’re already diving in. No vote needed?” She looked around the table and was met with a round of head nods and a chorus of agreements.

“Excellent,” she said, then took the file from me and walked over to the copy machine in the corner.

Before anyone could say more, the door creaked open at the top of the stairs. Boots echoed, deliberate, measured steps that silenced the room as they descended. Somehow, it was like my body knew without my mind catching up. Like some magnetic pull clued me in to his presence before I even saw him.