I've spent my whole life making myself smaller so other people would be comfortable. Staying with Lance because leaving would cause drama. Avoiding Sawyer in public so people wouldn't talk. Letting my mother manipulate me because confronting her was too hard.
I'm done.
Lance abused me—mostly verbally—for all four years we were together. Then, after I left, he stalked me.
Those are facts, no matter what anyone else wants to believe.
I finish my mocha slowly, letting the warmth settle in my stomach. The ceramic mug is heavy in my hands. Diane refills it without being asked, setting it down with a small smile.
“Better?” she asks.
“Getting there.”
When I finally leave, the afternoon light is gray and heavy. Snow clouds, probably. Winter's coming whether I'm ready for it or not.
But as I walk to my car, I realize I feel steadier than I have in days. Someone believed me without question. Someone defended me without hesitation.
Sawyer's mother thinks I'm worth standing up for.
Maybe it's time I think so too.
The gossip will continue. My mother will keep pressuring me. The investigation will drag on.
But I'm not backing down anymore.
Chapter 36
Sawyer
Lightsnowisfallingwhen I pull into the parking lot of Murphy’s Diner, twenty minutes outside Pine Hollows. Chris’s truck is already there, parked in the back where it’s less visible from the road.
I find him in a corner booth, nursing black coffee. The diner smells like bacon grease and burnt toast. There’s a manila folder on the table between us.
“You find something?” I ask, sliding into the seat across from him.
“More than something.” Chris glances around the mostly empty diner before sliding the folder across. “Tracy Campbell is a busy woman.”
The folder’s thicker than I expected. This is more than just Tracy's employment records.I open it to find a police report from three years ago. My stomach drops. Sexual harassment complaint against Lance from a coworker named Jennifer Walsh. Filed, then withdrawn a week later.
Three years ago. When Lance and Alice had been together for a year.While he was with Alice.
“Keep going,” Chris says.
The next page shows phone records. Tracy’s number, calling Jennifer Walsh multiple times between the complaint filing and withdrawal. The pattern is clear.
“Jennifer Walsh worked reception at Carlston Properties,” Chris explains. “Nineteen years old, fresh out of high school. Lance was her supervisor.”
My hands grip the folder's edges. He was cheating on Alice with a teenager at work. While also harassing her.
“She quit two weeks after dropping the complaint. Moved to Minneapolis, hasn’t been back since.”
I look at the name again. “Walsh. Mayor Walsh’s daughter?”
“Yep. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
I think about the mayor at the bank, his comment to Alice. He knew. He knew what Lance did to his daughter, and he still took the Carlston's side in public. Either he's scared of them, or they paid him off. “How’d you track this down?”
“Denise helped me pull some files, then reached out to some of the women directly. Jennifer kept everything—phone records, emails. Even recorded one of Tracy’s calls.”
