I stare at the photo, almost numbed.
“Fuck,” I mutter, handing the folder back. “This is big, Mal. Bigger than anything this town’s seen.”
He nods, his expression hard. “And it’s all connected to Nysa’s land.”
I run a hand through my hair, glancing back toward the house. “Does she know any of this?”
“Not yet,” he says. “I wanted to tell you first. Now that they know we know . . . we have to drag the attention out of the town. Make them believe we’re not suspicious of anyone specific. That we’re thinking someone from somewhere else is doing it.”
“But you think they’re here,” I ask.
“Or close by,” he confirms.
“So, what’s the plan now?”
“Ledger and Galeanna are coming back. They’ll be staying at Mom’s. We’re moving out of these lands tomorrow night. I need you to come back,” he states.
“But you said it’s dangerous.” I gawk at him, because he’s got to be shitting me.
“You’re hiring new farmhands today,” he continues. “Nysa will be hiring people too, so she can bring back her farm.”
“No,” I say, but the sound is more like a bark. “There’s no fucking way you’re putting her in danger. Leave her with her grandmother.”
“What will be the excuse?”
“They have to fix her house,” I respond right away. “I mean the place is falling apart. It needs new bathrooms, a coat of paint . . . you can’t have her living alone there.”
He scratches his head. “Can I think about that?”
“You can’t put her in danger,” I insist.
What the fuck is going through his mind? Like seriously. If he was more than just the fucking sheriff, maybe I would trust him. He would’ve had the support of the FBI. Right now he only has the resources of the town and that ain’t much.
Mal doesn’t respond right away, his gaze steady on mine. He leans against the side of the truck, his arms crossed, looking more like my pain-in-the-ass brother than the sheriff of Birchwood Springs.
“What the fuck are you thinking, Mal?” I snap, the frustration bubbling over. “You can’t just toss Nysa into this mess and hope for the best.”
“She’s already in it, Hopper,” he says, his tone even but sharp. “Whether she’s here, at Grandma Harper’s, or halfway across the country, whoever’s behind this knows she’s involved. Keeping her locked up somewhere isn’t going to fix that. We just figured out that they can be anywhere. She’s lucky that nothing happened to her while she was running.”
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing back and forth on the dirt. The idea of Nysa being anywhere near this is enough to send my heart racing. “So what? You want her back at her place, hiring people, pretending like everything’s fine?”
“That’s exactly what I said,” Mal sighs, exasperated. “Because if she doesn’t, it’s going to look suspicious. The best way to keep her safe is to make it look like we’re not connecting her to any of this.”
“And what if they come back?” I counter, spinning around to face him. “What if whoever did this decides to bury her too?”
“She’s not going to be alone,” he says, his voice dropping to a low growl. “You’ll be here—with security. I’m moving people closer to her land. But we need her cooperation to keep this quiet.”
I let out a harsh laugh, shaking my head. “You’re asking her to act like nothing happened after you dug up all those bodies in her backyard.”
“Do you think I like this plan, Hopper?” Mal snaps, stepping closer. “Do you think I enjoy putting her or any of you in this position? But this isn’t about what I like or what makes me feel better. It’s about keeping this town safe and catching whoever’s responsible for this shit.”
I glare at him, my fists clenched at my sides.
He’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
But that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.
“You’ve got to tell her,” I say after a moment, my voice rough. “She needs to know everything. The bodies, the connection to her land, the risks.”
