Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
I stood in front of the post office, watching the end of Main Street with the package cradled in my arms. Any minute, the courier would arrive.
Quinn didn’t know anything about what was happening in Six Rivers, and I wanted to keep it that way. I’d managed to get everything I needed back from Amelia just in time for the CAS deadline, but with everything going on, I wouldn’t be able to deliver it in person as planned.
I hugged the parcel to my chest, fingers fidgeting with the twine I’d knotted around it to keep it safe. Quinn had arranged for someone to pick up the physical copies in addition to the scans, and as soon as I handed them over, all of Johnny’s work would be the property of CAS. Every notebook, spreadsheet, and photo.
The negatives in particular, I had a hard time letting go of. Because of Johnny’s aversion to digital photography, they were the only finite, ephemeral elements of his unique fingerprint on the study. The only thing that couldn’t be replaced or replicated.
A man and woman huddled in thick coats passed me on the sidewalk, shooting me a side glance but not deigning to smile. Johnny’s name hadn’t officially been cleared in Autumn’s disappearance, and the town had fully descended into the rumors about their relationship. The majority rule in Six Rivers were those who “always had a feeling about those two.” No one had seen fit to acknowledge that if they had, in fact, thought something was going on, they’d failed to address it when it actually could have mattered.
There was still no evidence to confirm that Johnny and Autumn had had an inappropriate relationship, and until there was, I was inclined to believe Ben Cross. Both he and Rhett could attest to the fact that Autumn had left Johnny’s place that night, but the more the thread of the story was pulled, the more it unraveled. People compared notes to try and add to the narrative—that maybe Johnny had gone and found Autumn after Ben left her that night. Or that the day he’d gone to the gorge was the act of a murderer revisiting the scene of his own crime. There were some who even believed the backpack had been a kind of trophy. The thought made my stomach turn.
An enormous part of me wished I could go back in time to that darkroom when I first arrived in Six Rivers and forget the little pink blot on the negative. If I’d never enlarged the photo, no one would be looking so closely at Johnny’s life. But that would also mean that Autumn’s disappearance would remain erased from time. She didn’t deserve that.
I glanced up the street again, hoping to see a car on the road. The drive from San Francisco was more than six hours, and the courier was supposed to arrive more than twenty minutes ago. I pulled out my phone, compulsively finding Autumn’s Instagram profile while I waited, which I did several times a day now. Scrolling through her dormant feed had become a kind of self-soothing habit, one I wasn’t ready to look at too closely.
The picture in the grid from the day before she was supposed to leave Six Rivers was still at the top, and it had been taken on this very street. It was posted the day she’d gone to the end-of-summer party, the day she’d gone to Johnny’s house with Ben. It was the last day she was seen by another soul.
I read the caption for the hundredth time.
Last party in Six Rivers. At dawn, we ride.
That was how it should have been. She should have had her entire life ahead of her, a sea of possibilities with no end. From what I could tell, that’s what Johnny had wanted for her, too.
The comments on the post had multiplied many times over since I’d first seen it. In the days since they’d announced Autumn was missing and the posters went up around town, it seemed everyone had come out of the woodwork to leave messages for Autumn. The few that had been there from the beginning were still at the top.
My phone buzzed and a message from Olivia came up on the screen, covering the photo.
Saw that Johnny’s things are still in the darkroom. They’re in his cubby if you want to come by.
I’d totally forgotten about the folder she’d left for me. The sentence was punctuated with a glasses-wearing emoji, and I smiled. Olivia had been one of the few people in Six Rivers who didn’t seem hell-bent on casting Johnny as a villain, and I felt more guilty than ever for ghosting her after I left. It turns out, she was one of the only real friends we had in this town.
The soft squeal of brakes made me look up just as a shining black sedan made it to Main Street. It couldn’t be more out of place, with its glossy paint, tinted windows, and jaguar mount on the hood. It slowed, coming to a stop along the curb, but when the door opened, it wasn’t a courier. It was Quinn.
“James!” My name bent with the British accent.
I looked from him to the driver, unable to hide the confusion on my face. Quinn was the last person I expected to get out of the car, and maybe the last person I wanted to see right now. Six Rivers was crawling with gossip that might not bode well for the pile of research cradled in my arms, not to mention my brother’s reputation. In a place like San Francisco, that kind of association mattered.
“What are you doing here?” I gave Quinn a tight smile, my voice giving way to nerves, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Decided I’d feel best collecting Johnny’s work myself.”
He leaned forward, kissing my cheek, and I immediately glanced up the sidewalk for anyone who might be watching. I was stiff as he hugged me, my arms still wrapped tightly around the parcel.
“Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you. Check in and make sure you’re doing okay?” he said, more tenderly.
His brown eyes moved over my face, like he was taking stock. Trying to ascertain whether I was really all right. Quinn had a seriousness to him, but that gentle look made him even more handsome.
“That’s really sweet. Thanks, Quinn.”
“I know I’ve just pushed in a bit, but have you got time for a coffee?” he asked, hopeful.
“Sure.”
His smile widened before he exhaled, clearly relieved. “Great. Where to?”
I licked my lips, eyes going to the diner’s painted windows across the street. In the city, there was a coffee shop, tea shop, café, or bistro on every corner. “It’s kind of a small town. Not really a lot of options.”
“I’m not picky.” He closed the car door, signaling to the driver. “Lead the way.”
I forced myself to mirror his smile, and again, I scanned the cars parked along the street. The sidewalk. It wasn’t until that moment that I realized who I was looking for—Micah. There wasn’t any sign of his truck, but he was in town today.
I hadn’t answered him when he asked me not to go back to San Francisco, and when I’d woken in his bed this morning, he was already gone. The words had caught me so off guard that my head was still spinning with the idea. And now my life outside of Six Rivers had suddenly shown up, chasing after me.
We started walking and Quinn took in the view of Main Street, eyes full of wonder. “Gorgeous country, isn’t it?” he mused. “Can’t believe you grew up here.”
“Yeah, it is.”
I studied the forest in the distance, trying to see it from his perspective. The picturesque town was like a painting against the unruly beauty of the forest. On the surface, it seemed like such a perfect place. A refuge from the chaos of the world. And maybe it was once, before the trees were scooped out to build a town for people to live. Before this place had been touched by humanity. Now, where there were people, there was pain. Even in a place like this.
When I opened the door to the diner, the conversation inside quieted, and this time, the people seated along the counter and at the tables weren’t just looking at me. Quinn’s cashmere sweater, suit jacket, and tortoise-rimmed glasses made him stand out against the sea of flannel and denim.
He scanned the room with another polite smile, but it fell a little when no one seemed to smile back. I could see the questions spinning behind their eyes, the curiosity bordering on suspicion. In the last week, Six Rivers had been filled with the kind of strangers these people weren’t used to. Police, investigators, social workers. A man in dress shoes with a city haircut was another to add to the list.
“Not very friendly, are they?” he murmured.
But when I looked up at Quinn, his humor was still intact, which was a credit to him. “Not really, no.” I stifled a laugh.
Sadie came out from the back, her steps faltering a little when she spotted me. It took a few seconds, but she attempted a warm smile, her posture a little sheepish. I hadn’t seen her since Ben was questioned, but now that her son was out from under the spotlight, she was trying to smooth things over. That part of her personality was familiar to me, even after all these years. She burned hot, but eventually she came around. She always did.
“Hey, James.” Her hands twisted around the rag in her hands. “What can I get you all?”
“Just a couple of coffees,” I answered, only meeting her eyes for a second.
She nodded, reaching for the mugs, and I swallowed hard when I realized the only open table in the diner was Johnny’s booth. I led Quinn toward it, trying to relax the tension in my shoulders.
“I ran into Rhia the other day.” He slid into the booth. “She says the show is shaping up nicely.”
I took a seat, trying my best to ignore the rush of cold that filled my body. Outside the window, the view flickered in and out, the clock rewinding to a scene in autumn. The snow-crusted sidewalk was suddenly replaced by cracked cement littered with pine needles, and the sky was gray. The sounds of the diner changed, too, going quiet as if the place was mostly empty.
I pushed the vision away, trying to center myself in the present moment by focusing my eyes on Quinn’s hands folded on the tabletop.
“I was thinking of going,” he said, ducking his head a little to try and meet my gaze. “To the show.”
I blinked, the realization hitting me. That’s what this was—Quinn hadn’t just come all this way to pick up Johnny’s research. He’d come to make a gesture. For the last year, he’d been trying his hand at the unhurried, subtle type. And after Johnny died, he’d mostly backed off. Now, he was testing the waters, and by the look of it, he was nervous.
I hadn’t meant to string Quinn along, but he wasn’t the type of man you just hooked up with or invited over when you were lonely. He was warm and cultured. Successful. He had passion and focus. But someone like Quinn just felt so…permanent.
Sadie appeared at the edge of the table, setting down the mugs and a small pitcher of creamer, eyeing me. “Just let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” I choked, reaching up to loosen the collar of my shirt.
Slowly, the sounds of the diner resurfaced, the view out the window becoming static. The moment—the memory—was gone, making me feel like I could finally breathe.
I slid the parcel across the table, fingers slipping from the brown paper wrapping, and Quinn looked at it for a moment before he set a hand on top. I hadn’t answered his question about the show, and it wasn’t a completely smooth change in subject, but he let me off the hook.
“You’ve no idea what his contribution means to this project, James. What it will mean for the generations to come,” he said.
But I did have some idea. For the last few weeks, Johnny’s words had been on a loop in my mind.
What the fuck are we even here for?
He’d been asking that question for a long time, and I felt now like he’d just been trying to do something good.
“It’s in good hands. Don’t worry,” Quinn said, reading my face.
I cupped my hands around the mug to keep them from feeling empty without the parcel. “You didn’t really know Johnny.” I paused. “But this project was important to him. Gave him a purpose. It means a lot that you gave him this chance.”
Quinn had given Johnny an opportunity that had changed Johnny’s life. For better and for worse. I could see now that everything that led to the moment he died had more to do with the randomness of things, the unpredictability of the universe, than it had to do with me. I’d tried to control it all for so long only to find that in a way, none of it mattered. And yet, all of it did.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner when you get back?” Quinn asked, a slight apprehension in his eyes. “Maybe we can try this thing for real this time?”
In that single look, I could see an entire future. A sequence of events that aligned with the life I’d built for the last twenty years. Prix fixe tasting menus, an apartment in the Marina District, a seat on the San Francisco Arts Council. It was all a far cry from the life that I could live here.
Don’t go back to San Francisco.
Micah’s deep, breathy voice was still alive against my lips, but it was just the remnants of a long-lost dream. Coming back here was like falling back into the dark. I didn’t want to live a haunted life. But across the table sat a whole reality at the tip of my fingers, with a good man in a place that had been my refuge when I left Six Rivers. All I had to do was reach out and take it.