Where The Mind Breaks

Chapter 2: In The Rain

The rain in Everfell didn't fall, it clung. It was a wet, grey shroud that wrapped itself around the town, soaking into the old wood of the buildings and the souls of the people. Nel drove down the main street, his wipers fighting a losing battle against the relentless drizzle. Nothing had changed. The same tired-looking diner, the same hardware store with its faded paint, the same oppressive weight of the lake at the end of the road, hidden behind a curtain of mist.

It was a town holding its breath.

His first stop wasn't Golda's office. He couldn't face that yet. The image of her, alone on the floor with that terrible, final sound in his ear, was too fresh. He needed the key. He needed what she had left for him. It was the only thing that felt solid.

The old movie house, "The Starlight," had been closed for a decade. Its marquee was a skeleton of dead lightbulbs and peeling letters. The alley beside it was choked with wet garbage and the smell of damp rot. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, panicked rhythm. This was it. The first step into the past. Every instinct screamed at him to get back in the car and drive until the rain stopped.

He forced his door open and stepped into the alley, the cold seeping through his jacket instantly. He found the spot by memory, his fingers tracing the rough, cold bricks until they found the one that sat just a little looser than the others. He pried it out, the scraping sound unnaturally loud in the quiet.

The space behind was dark and empty.

For a heart-stopping second, he believed it. He believed that Golda had been crazy, that it was all a delusion, that he had driven eight hours through the night for nothing. Then his fingers, probing deeper into the cold, gritty hollow, brushed against metal.

Not a key. A small, fireproof lockbox, the kind you'd keep important documents in. It was cold and heavy in his hand.

A sudden crunch of gravel behind him.

Nel spun around, shoving the box inside his jacket, his back pressing against the wet brick wall. The alley was empty. Just the rain and the distant hum of a car engine. Paranoia. It was already setting in, coiling around his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He was a ghost here, an unwelcome memory. And ghosts made people nervous.

He hurried back to his car, the box a cold, hard weight against his chest. He didn't open it there. He drove to the only place he could think of, a viewpoint overlooking the lake. It was deserted.

Sitting in the driver's seat, the engine off and the rain drumming on the roof, he opened the box.

There was no ledger. Not yet.

On top was a photograph. It was a picture of them as kids...him, Vivi, and Jason Demmys. They were maybe eight, eleven, and twelve. They were on the pier, arms slung around each other's shoulders, grinning like fools. Jason had a black eye. Nel remembered giving it to him for pulling Vivi's hair. They'd fought, then become friends again an hour later. A lifetime ago.

Beneath the photo was a single, folded piece of paper from Golda's notepad. Her handwriting, usually so neat, was a frantic scrawl.

Nel- They think I don't know about the second set of books. The real ones. Hedge didn't just skim from the town. He bought people. He owns them. The payments are in the ledger. I hid it where he'd never look. With the dead. It's all connected to the Weeping. It never stopped. Jason isn't your friend. Trust no one. Especially not the Demmys. - G

The words hit him like physical blows. He owns them. It never stopped. Jason isn't your friend.

He looked back at the photograph, at Jason's young, grinning face. Sheriff Jason Demmys now. The man who had ruled Golda's death a suicide.

Beneath the note, at the bottom of the box, was a single, tarnished key. It was old, heavy, and unlike any house key he'd ever seen. It looked like a key for a padlock. Or a mausoleum.

'I hid it where he'd never look. With the dead.'

The cemetery. She'd hidden the ledger in the cemetery.

The panic he'd been holding back surged, tightening his throat. He couldn't. Not there. The cemetery was on the hill overlooking the lake, right next to the woods where... where he'd seen the man. Where Vivi had vanished.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the memory down, but it came anyway. The dappled light through the trees. Vivi's laughter. The sudden chill. The figure, standing so still, just watching. The way the sunlight hit his face for just a second, a flash of features he couldn't quite grasp, blurred by time and terror.

A sharp rap on his window made him jolt so hard he hit his head on the roof.

Jason Demmys stood outside the car, his sheriff's hat shedding rainwater, his face a mask of polite concern. He looked exactly like the man he was destined to become...his father's son, with the same cool eyes and a smile that didn't quite reach them.

Nel fumbled with the lockbox, shoving it under his leg, his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest.

He rolled down the window. The smell of wet pine and lake water flooded the car.

"Nel," Jason said, his voice calm, easy. "Heard you were back. Sorry it's under these circumstances. Golda... it's a real shame."

Nel could only nod, his tongue stuck to the roof of his dry mouth.

"Just doing a welfare check," Jason continued, his eyes scanning the interior of the car, missing nothing. "Seeing a strange vehicle parked up here... you know how it is. Everything okay?"

"Fine," Nel managed to croak. "Just... taking in the view."

Jason's gaze lingered on him for a moment too long. "Not much of a view today." He rested his forearm on the roof of the car, leaning in slightly. A casual, friendly gesture that felt like a trap. "Look, Nel. I know you and Golda were close a long time ago. But the investigation is closed. It was a clear-cut thing. She was having... problems. It's best if you just pay your respects and move on. For your own sake. Everfell... it's not good for you. Bad memories."

The warning was as clear as the rain on the windshield. Leave.

"I just came for the funeral," Nel said, forcing himself to meet Jason's gaze.

"Of course," Jason said, straightening up. "It's tomorrow. Eleven AM. I'll probably see you there." He tapped the roof of the car twice. "Drive safe, Nel. Roads are slick."

He walked back to his cruiser, a confident, unhurried pace. Nel watched him go in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel to stop them from shaking.

He waited until the cruiser's taillights disappeared around the bend. Then he pulled the box out from under his leg. He stared at the key. The key to the truth. The key Golda had died for.

He looked through the rain-streaked windshield towards the hill, towards the cemetery shrouded in mist. Towards the woods where his childhood had ended.

Jason thought the investigation was closed. Jason thought he was just here for a funeral.

But as he stared at the key, a cold certainty settled in his gut.

Golda's funeral wouldn't be the only one.