A breeze rattled a loose sign near the office.
“But here’s the thing about Sylva, lass.”
He stopped a step away.
“We don’t take kindly to people who come here lookin’ to burn somethin’ down.”
A beat.
“You tried to do it again. And all you managed was to light up the truth.”
Her grip tightened on her bag.
“You done?” she asked.
Deck just looked at her.
Then—
“So here’s how this goes,” he said. “You get in your car. You take your cameras and your ghosts with you. And you don’t come back lookin’ for another story to twist.”
His gaze hardened.
“Because if I see your face in this county again… or I see Eleanor Harper’s name show up on one of your little productions…”
Silence stretched.
“I won’t be askin’ you to leave next time.”
Deck leaned in just slightly.
“She’s not your story anymore.”
A beat.
“She survived you.”
Lila didn’t move.
Deck straightened, tipping his hat.
“Safe travels, Ms. Allen.”
He stepped back toward his truck.
“Try not to get lost chasin’ ghosts that don’t belong to you.”
He climbed in, engine turning over.
Lila stood there a moment longer.
Then she turned, got in her car, and pulled out—and kept driving.
Tuesday Morning — The Drive Back
The sun was hitting the marshes as Eleanor crossed the Cooper River Bridge, leaving Charleston’s low-country elegance behind. She didn't call Reid. She didn't even check her work email. Instead, as she pulled into a rest stop near Orangeburg, she did the one thing she usually avoided: she opened theVanished in the Valleyapp.
She expected to see her own face. She expected a post-verdict autopsy of the Mercer case—a "Deep Dive into the Defense’s Deception."
