Page 61 of In the Dark of the Past

River made a sound like the air had left her lungs in a single rush. “Jesus,” she whispered.

My chest felt like someone had wrapped barbed wire around it and pulled.

Myra glanced up, something fierce and brittle in her expression. “We’ll make sure nobody gets to call her crazy again,” she said. “We’ll make sure she gets the justice she deserves.”

“Get her bagged,” I said roughly. “Full chain. No shortcuts. If hitting at the top with this, we’re going in armed with every scrap of science you’ve got.”

Eryn’s mouth curved, humorless. “Already on it.”

As the techs started the careful process of removing what was left of Eleanor Jenkins from the grave she never should have had, Atlas moved to stand on my other side.

“Think this is going to be enough?” he asked quietly. “To crack it all open?”

“Enough for what, exactly?” I asked.

“To force people to pick a side,” he said. “You know half this town ain’t gonna like finding out their donation checks bought a coffin in the woods.”

“Then they can live with that,” I said. “The way River had to live with what they said about her dad.”

He grunted. “About time somebody else choked on it for a while.”

River let go of my hand long enough to wrap her arms around herself. Her eyes stayed on the grave, but I could see the tremor in her shoulders.

“We bring her home,” she said quietly. “And then we burn it all down.”

I didn’t argue.

Word got out faster than it should have. We hadn’t even cleared the scene when my phone started vibrating steadily in my pocket. Texts from deputies not on shift. From the mayor’s assistant. From Andra, whose news nose could sniff out a scandal three towns away. From Nivea, who sent a simple text.

NIVEA: please tell me that’s what I think it is

By the time they loaded the body bag into the coroner’s van, a small cluster of cars had gathered at the preserve gate—locals who’d seen the lights on the access road and come to see which neighbor’s business was being aired.

The Watchers didn’t have to do much to keep Maple Ridge in line. The town’s appetite for gossip did half the work.

Back at the station, we logged evidence until my injured arm throbbed in time with the fluorescent lights. Myra transported Eleanor’s remains to the county morgue under escort, promising preliminary findings by morning. She and her team would fully examine the body and her possessions from the other site and coordinate with Eryn.

I filed a supplemental report that would probably end up on some DA’s desk with a sticky note that said ARE YOU SEEING THIS SHIT?

Through it all, River stayed. She analyzed nothing, wrote nothing, just…sat. First in the corner of my office, then in the break room with a cup of coffee she didn’t drink, then in the hallway outside evidence, where she watched every sealed bag go by like she could memorize each one into existence.

When the clock over dispatch finally rolled over, I realized I’d been awake for over a day. I also realized the Hollow Oak would be unbearable tonight.

“Why don’t you take off?” I told River, leaning in the doorway to my office.

She looked up from the legal pad in front of her—a page full of names and arrows and question marks that had turned into something like a conspiracy spiderweb. “You going to take your own advice?” she asked.

“Eventually.”

She snorted. “Sure.”

I hesitated. “The town’s going to hear about Eleanor before midnight. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Her mouth twisted. “And Nivea and Andra will help that happen. Honestly, I’d kind of like to see their faces when they realize she really was onto something.”

I knew that feeling.

“Cade texted, by the way,” I said. “Saved the big table. Says the club deserves first crack at processing before the rest of Maple Ridge tries to rewrite the narrative.”