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Autumn elbows me.
Daniels ignores it.
“There’s something else you should see.”
He leads us toward the back wall.
And there it is.
Five words painted across the pale green plaster in thick black letters.
THE DEAD SHOULD STAY DEAD.
Everything inside me goes quiet.
Not calm.
Quiet.
The kind of silence that comes right before something breaks.
Autumn grips my arm.
“Gray?”
I stare at the words.
Ten years.
Ten fucking years I’ve spent trying to forget the sound of Eli’s body hitting the road.
And now some bastard wants to drag him into this.
Into her bakery.
Into her life.
I know exactly who.
“Tyler Jensen.”
Daniels looks at me.
“What?”
“Tyler fucking Jensen.”
The sheriff’s expression tightens.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because he’s the only asshole in this town who’d write something like that.”
“Grayson, we can’t make assumptions.”
“Then don’t. Check the cameras. Ask him where he was.”
Daniels holds up a hand.
