At some point, I realized my hands were shaking. I balled them into fists and pressed them into my thighs, grounding myself in the pain of my own knuckles. I refused to let myself cry. That was a luxury I’d given up a long time ago.
The final piece was a list of closed case numbers—twenty in all, over the last six years. Each one marked as “accidental” or “resolved.” I clicked through, and the pattern held: every case with Miller’s name on it had been touched, edited, or altered by “admin” in the days or weeks after it was filed. Some cases even had new witness statements added months after the fact, all signed by the same two people. Neither of whom, as far as I could tell, actually existed outside of the reports.
I stared at the screen, the truth sinking in like a stone in cold water.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to cover things up. Not just Ty’s death, but other crimes too. And no one—not a single soul—had tried to stop it.
I googled Mark Miller and found that he’d been terminated shortly after the incident, and sued the department for wrongful termination. A case he lost. Could Miller be the mystery caller? Did he know the truth?
I made copies of every file, every screenshot, every log. I burned them to an SD card and hid the card under the loose floorboard behind the closet. Then I shut down the laptop and sat in the blue dark, letting my pulse slow, letting my breathing even out.
Someone had decided to let the public think I was the perfect scapegoat and I’d just let it happen.
I’d spent most of my life running from who I was, and from where I came from. Now, it felt like the whole town was dead-set on making me wear their sins.
Well, fuck that. I knew what I had to do now.
If Whittier Falls wanted a monster, I’d show them how one was made.
The sun wasn’t even up yet, but my phone was already lighting up the room with a shitstorm.
Miles Bernard. Of course it was.
I let it ring twice, just for effect. Then I tapped Speaker and set the phone next to my keyboard, never breaking stride as I copied another batch of altered PDFs to a fresh directory. The audio crackled as Miles’s voice came through, crisp and fake-casual, which was right on brand.
“Ford! Buddy! Tell me you’re awake. You’ve seen the feeds, right?”
“Morning to you too, Miles,” I drawled, not looking up from the progress bar. “You’re up early.”
Miles didn’t take the bait. “Unsolved Montana is trending in three states. You are the cover image for every blog and aggregator in the entire Western region. Did you listen to the episode? Tell me you listened.”
I watched the folders duplicate, the tiny green bar inching across the screen. “Yeah, I heard it. Don’t care much.”
Miles’s breath came hot and fast, like a kettle about to blow. “I told you this would happen. The board at Breckenridge is freaking the fuck out. This is exactly what we were afraid of when you insisted on going back to that backwater town. The stock has been dropping since this thing started.”
He let the silence hang, waiting for a reaction.
I yawned, stretching my arms above my head. “Maybe it’ll bounce. Maybe people will get bored and move on.”
Miles groaned. “You don’t get it. They are not going to ‘move on.’ They’re going to dig. They’re going to find everything, Ford. Not just about you, but about the company, the board, the acquisition, everything. They’re already quoting the tipster on Reddit. ‘It wasn’t Ford. I saw someone else at the creek.’ It’s a matter of hours before someone leaks the rest of the police files.”
I smiled to myself, because that was exactly the plan.
“Sounds like you’ve got it handled, Miles,” I said. “What do you need me for?”
His voice dropped, icy now. “You need to get your ass back to California and do some damage control. Now. I don’t care if you have to hitchhike. You’re still on the board, you still have obligations, and you will show up on Monday and read the statement I send you, word for word.”
I toggled over to the password dump I’d started pulling from the city’s network admin. It was a goldmine.
“No can do,” I said. “I’ve got something to finish here. Besides, I told you I don’t want to be on the board. They got the business. I got the money. I think that should have been the end of it right there.”
Miles exhaled, the sound sharp as a gunshot. “You’re making a mistake, Ford. We can make things very difficult for you.”
“Try it. I’m done with you and the whole business.”
“What so you can be a cowboy again? Work on the range?” He was scoffing and meant it as an insult but it wasn’t to me.
“Yeah. Exactly. Don’t call me again, Miles. You have my lawyer’s number if you need to reach me.”
