Then he moved on toward the bar, leaving the faint scent of cedar and expensive cologne in his wake.
“Oh, my God,” April whispered the second he was out of earshot. “He is absolutely in love with you.”
Eleanor looked back toward the mountains.
“He is absolutely impossible.”
“Same thing,” Marla said.
A few heads turned as Deputy Luke Hale stepped onto the rooftop with Deputy Sara Parker beside him, the two of them looking lighter now that the night belonged to them. Luke lifted a hand in greeting when he spotted Eleanor; Sara offered a quick hug to April before they were waved toward the bar by Steve.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Eleanor called after them.
“Oh, we will,” Luke said over his shoulder. “Briefly.”
The band kicked into a familiar song, the crowd cheering as the lead singer stepped up to the mic. Marla was on her feet immediately, dragging Hannah toward the open space near the railing where people had already started dancing.
“This is exactly why I live here,” Marla shouted over the music. “Tell me this isn’t perfect.”
“It’s perfect,” April said, eyes bright. “I haven’t heard my own thoughts all week.”
Someone ordered another round. Someone else bumped into their table and apologized with a grin. The night felt easy and unhurried.
During a break between songs, April lifted her glass and straightened in her seat, her expression shifting into something solemn and unmistakable.
“Counselor,” she said, her voice dropping into a slow, deliberate cadence, pure Judge Whitaker.
The table erupted.
“Oh my God,” Marla gasped. “That is him.”
“That sigh,” Hannah, the clerk from upstairs, added. “You nailed the sigh.”
April grinned. “If I hear it one more time before he says my name, I’m putting it in my resignation letter.”
“That cadence should come with a warning label,” Eleanor said, laughing.
“I love him,” April said easily. “Truly. But if I start issuing rulings in his voice, someone needs to stage an intervention.”
“To surviving another week,” Marla said, lifting her glass.
“To being off the record,” April added.
They drank as the band launched back into the music, laughter spilling into the warm night air. April leaned into Eleanor, bumping her shoulder as she swayed—carefree in a way the courthouse never allowed.
Eleanor smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. She stepped closer to the railing, resting her hands against the cool metal as she looked back out over the town. From this vantage point, the courthouse felt close enough to touch—solid, familiar, unshakable. The mountains rose behind it, dark and endless, holding everything in quiet balance.
As her gaze drifted toward the streetlights of Main Street, something caught the wind.
Across the front of the old hotel—the one that had been mostly empty since the winter—a massive black-and-red banner was being unfurled. It draped over the front of the building, a hard slash of color against the familiar brick. In the glow of the streetlamps, she could just make out the sharp white lettering:
VANISHED IN THE VALLEY: MOUNTAIN MYSTERY WEEK.
Beneath it, a smaller line of text:
Broadcasting Live. The Truth Is in the Shadows.
Eleanor’s grip tightened on the railing before she could stop it.
