Beneath another name

for a moment, Samantha Crossno, Rachel Monroe-just sat there,

aller than s

n was faded, th

artwood A To

ay-painted a crude heart wi

?" the driver asked, gl

I need to walk th

l out her duffel bag. The air smelled of pine and wet ear

to a place like this," the dri

atched as his taillights disappeared around the bend.

orizon like silent sentinels. But something in the air felt heavier now

g over her shoulde

g vacancy sign she remembered from her childhood. The woman behind the counter didn't

counter. "I called earlier. R

ead 'Y'all Need Jesus', gave her a glance, ch

ft. Wi-Fi password's

ank

he dropped her bag on the bed and peeled off her coat. The mirror on the wa

hand dow

reminded herself. Rachel

eneath her feet humm

ah, walked the cracked sidewalks of downtown Hartw

nce the nineties. Vinyl booths. Sticky menus. Teenagers

ter and ordered cof

spoke be

eve I've seen

iff's department jacket, the badge slightly dulled from use. Tall, clean-

" she said. "P

ng her with quiet

pleasant smile.

long before he offered a hand. "Depu

omach

a

enner had mentioned the sheriff back t

his hand.

to mee

re on b

t research. I write for travel blogs. Smal

e you're not to

t y

lked out, his boots echoin

hand was still slightly

le she might run into

she found th

ross from the library. The clerk barely looked up as sh

ght of old paper. She worked quickly, flipping through case files and

he was lookin

n, she

in-suspiciously so. Most of it was photocopied and redacted. The of

words, bile risi

i

report. Retired two years later. No follow-up. No additi

rough one more

e report was a note

Hall Storage

apped

spread across her lap. She cross-referenced her notes

ootsteps outside her window. The argument between her father and someo

rc

ff. He was part of

rased the tra

starting to

er phone

number.

dn't have

d turned

the screen,

Just that message, glowin

didn't b

neve

opening. Her story was airtight-freelancer writing a pie

lf-asleep and waved her th

s lined with dusty boxes, loosely labeled

gently. Blew the

ograph of Sheriff Marcus Dade shaking hands with a de

de. Pages filled with notes. Meet

al line, underl

refusal to sell. C

eath c

adn't died in

been mu

ed she didn't he

ehind her: "Didn't expec

ned, st

the doorway, one hand resti

ad he seen the fo

d the archives. Didn't kn

head. "You're

ke di

the box. "Find any

he lid slowl

I can

re you'

ent, the friendly facad

said. "People around her

turned a

to her room, someo

ong. The Bible on the nightstand had been mov

erything. Noth

the n

o

lying on her pillo

h

n year

outside h

s before