Page 66 of In the Dark of the Past

The knock on the office door snapped us both to attention.

Finn tensed, and I almost felt it ripple through him.

“Yeah?” he called.

The door opened a crack. Assistant District Attorney Graham Meyer stepped inside with an expression so carefully blank it felt like a threat.

The sight of him landed before I could prepare for it.

Graham Meyer. The last time I’d stood in the same room as him, my father had just been walked out of a disciplinary hearing. Graham had held the door open. He hadn’t met my eyes.

He’d been a young, hotshot prosecutor then. Rising. Ambitious. Not a bad man, I’d told myself after. Just a man on the wrong side of something he didn’t fully understand.

Standing in Finn’s office later, I wasn’t sure anymore which version of that story was true.

Meyer had been heavily involved with my father’s case. Just the sight of him brought back memories I didn’t have time to unpack.

“Morning, Sheriff,” Graham said. “Doctor Bennett.”

My spine straightened. “Graham.”

His eyes flicked to the whiteboard. At the files. At Finn’s bandaged arm.

“Busy night last night,” he said mildly.

Every instinct I owned screamed danger.

Finn’s voice was flat and controlled when he said, “Is there something you need? We’re kind of busy, and we don’t have anything for your office yet.”

Graham’s gaze brushed me before returning to Finn. “The mayor wants an update on the Birchwood recovery. And a copy of any statements made by your suspect.” He shot Finn a polite smile. “For transparency.”

“Transparency,” Finn repeated. “That what we’re calling it? Sounds more like micro-management.”

Graham’s smile didn’t budge. “Just doing my job.”

“Your job,” Finn said, stepping subtly in front of me, “is to prosecute crimes, Meyer. To bring the shitbags I hand you to justice. Not to run interference for city hall.”

Graham exhaled through his nose, the move patient but strained. “Finn. Come on. Let’s not turn this into a spectacle. We’re all on the same side. Just like we’ve always been.” He shot a look at me and my stomach turned.

“I’m not sure we are,” Finn said quietly, never taking his eyes off Graham.

Silence thickened, and Graham’s gaze moved between us—gauging, calculating, filing it all away.

Then his lips curved, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. Not surprised, either. Just...knowing, somehow.

“Well,” he said, stepping back toward the door, “I’ll leave you to it, then. We’ll give you twenty-four hours, but the mayor will expect that case file and transcript tomorrow.”

Finn didn’t answer.

Graham turned to leave but paused with the door half-open. “Oh,” he added lightly, “and congratulations, Finn. On the...developments.”

A beat too long passed after he said it. A beat that made my heart stop.

Then, he smiled at me.

At me.

Then he left, the door clicking shut behind him.