Page 33

"You've forgotten where you are."

"No."

"This town has a story about everything."

"I don't investigate ghost stories."

"No."

Her smile fades.

"You investigate patterns."

That, I can't argue with. I spread the reports across the table. The outages don't happen randomly. Neither do the corrupted files. Every incident creates a rough perimeter. Almost like concentric circles. And sitting near the center…

Wren Cottage.

I lean back.

"Has anyone spoken to Carys?"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"We didn't know she mattered."

Until now.

A memory surfaces before I can stop it. Carys laughing as autumn leaves swirled around us. The determined set of her jaw whenever she argued. The way she'd refuse to let anyone have the last word.

15 years. I'd spent 15 years making certain those memories stayed buried. Now her name sits in the middle of an active investigation.

Coincidence. I don't believe in coincidence. Not anymore.

Molly watches me quietly.

"Tell me about her."

I keep my eyes on the files.

"We grew up together."

"Friends?"

"For a while."

"And then?"

"Life happened."

She waits. I don't continue. Some stories aren't ready to be told. Especially not mine. She nods once, accepting the boundary.

"Fair enough."

I gather the folders into a neat stack.

"I want copies of everything."