Chapter 1
Ash
The road stretched ahead, long and winding, hemmed in by rows of dense trees on either side. The steady patter of rain against my windshield felt like a warning, but I couldn’t figure out what it was warning me about. Maybe it was just the town. Maybe it was the memories I’d buried so deep they’d become a weight in my chest I couldn’t shake.
I hadn’t been back here in ten years. Not since I was seventeen, running away from everything. Running away from him, from them, from the ghosts that still clung to my skin like a permanent stain.
The sign welcoming me to my hometown was faded. The bright paint had long since chipped away, leaving just a shadow of its former self. It wasn’t much—just the name of the town scrawled in unkempt lettering. I stared at it for a few seconds, my eyes fixed on the words like they held some secret message I was too afraid to read.
Welcome to Ashford.
The rain had picked up by the time I passed the old gas station. I remembered stopping there with Jack, the sun beating down on us, the smell of gasoline mixing with the stale air from the A/C. We used to joke about how we’d never leave. The world felt small then, like our little town was all there was, and we were untouchable, invincible, the two of us against everything.
I didn’t laugh now.
I flicked the wipers on higher, watching the road blur under the weight of the storm. The memories hit harder the closer I got. The town hadn’t changed much—at least, not in the ways I cared about. The streetlights still buzzed at odd hours. The old diner was still there, its neon “Open” sign flickering as if it hadn’t been touched since the 90s. The same place where Jack and I used to sit for hours after school, drinking soda and pretending we had all the time in the world.
I shook my head and turned the music off. The last thing I needed was to let nostalgia creep in. The case was my focus now. Two dead bodies—both victims were men who’d been there that night. The same night my life changed forever. I didn’t know if it was a coincidence or not, but I wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions.
And yet, I couldn’t stop my mind from going there. Two men who were part of the group that did this to me. Could it really be a coincidence?
I’d been away from here for so long, I didn’t recognize half the streets. The small, quiet town was nothing like the bustling city I’d carved out a life in. But as I neared the old precinct, the familiar ache in my chest tightened. The same building where I’d seen Jack for the last time. The same building that held too many memories I’d spent years trying to forget.
I’d gotten the call to come back. The chief had asked for my help—my expertise. It was a professional request. Just another case to solve. No reason for me to think this was anything more than that. Two men dead, and both had been involved in the attack that changed everything for me. My brain tried to reason with me—this was just a series of bad choices catching up with bad people. A coincidence. That was all it could be. They were friends, maybe even mixed up in something they shouldn’t have been. Maybe someone else had decided to take them down.
But I wasn’t so sure. Something about the whole thing felt too calculated. Too… personal.
I reached the parking lot and parked in a spot near the entrance. The rain was coming down harder now, the rhythmic sound of it drumming against the roof of my car filling the silence. I sat there for a moment, staring at the door of the police station, my fingers drumming on the steering wheel.
My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I hadn’t been here in years, but I still knew the place like the back of my hand. The red brick building stood tall, the lights inside flickering like it had seen better days. It hadn’t changed much. None of it had.
I had to get out of the car. Had to keep moving.
The ghosts were waiting, but I wasn’t going to let them take over. Not now. Not when I had a job to do.
I shoved the door open, the cool air hitting me with the sharp scent of rain and earth. I could feel the weight of it—the pull of this town. This town that had never let me go.
With a deep breath, I slammed the door behind me and walked toward the entrance. The station was quiet inside. Too quiet. There were a few officers milling about, but the hum of activity felt muted, like the place itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
I walked toward the front desk, my boots clicking sharply on the tiled floor. The receptionist looked up at me, her eyes briefly widening with recognition.
“Detective Taylor?” she asked, her voice soft and uncertain.
“Yeah,” I muttered, my tone flat. “I’m here to meet with the chief.”
She nodded, picking up the phone to make the call. I stood there for a moment, glancing around the station. The same old bulletin board with faded case files. The stack of paperwork sitting in the corner that looked like it had been there since before I left. The walls were the same dull yellow, the same chipped paint. Nothing ever changed in this place.
Except for me.
“You remember where his office is?” the receptionist asked after a few seconds.
“Yeah,” I replied quietly, turning on my heel before she could say anything else.
I made my way down the hallway, the old wooden floors creaking under my weight. The smell of old coffee and stale air mixed with the faint scent of paper. There was a slight chill in the air, like the building was trying to keep out the damp, but failing.
I passed the door to the interrogation rooms, remembering the times Jack and I had joked about the place. I had once swiped a coffee mug from here just because I could. Now, it felt like a museum of everything I was trying to forget.
The chief’s office door was ajar. I knocked once before pushing it open.
“Detective Taylor,” Chief Harris said, standing up behind his cluttered desk. He was older now, a little more worn than I remembered, but his eyes still held the same weary recognition. “Glad you could make it. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
I nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. There was no going back now.
