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And he might be right.

Raven sure is about this.

This is McBride Mountain, population 536.

There are no secrets here.

And this small town loves nothing more than to spread rumors and make their own leaps when information isn’t readily available.

Like now.

“How do you recommend getting ahead of it?”

She holds my gaze, uncertainty in hers that I normally don’t see there. “Let me post an article.”

“You’re kidding.”

Her hands fly up defensively. “You would be able to have the final say about what goes into it, but I feel like the town needs to know something besides what the whispers are saying.”

“But we don’t even know what happened.” I can count the number of actual facts on one hand. “What are we supposed to tell them?”

She offers a half shrug. “Exactly that. We don’t know what happened. Maybe it would help draw out some information that we don’t already have from someone who doesn’t even know they have it.”

“Killian said Tony is interviewing everyone he can think of and making calls.”

Her head bobs, causing a strand of her blond hair to fall from the messy bun pulled up at the top of her head. “I’m sure he is, but you know there are a lot of people who don’t come into town often and never leave their homesteads unless they absolutely have to.” She taps her computer. “My site is how they get all their news and know about what’s happening since the paper shut down. Almost everyone has conceded they need power and the internet these days, and they’re willing to check the site frequently. While some people do know you’re back and how Killian found you, there are going to be even more who don’t know. Or they’ll get their information from someone who doesn’t have the right information. We can control the narrative, if you’ll let me do it.”

She has a point there.

I haven’t been gone long enough that the way McBride Mountain works has changed. Everybody is in everybody else’s business. And of course, a body found in the river would be front-page news if we still had a local newspaper.

Raven’s site has become basically that, and she isn’t wrong about trying to get ahead of it. It might be a way to curtail all the crazy stories people are making up…and potentially get some information we wouldn’t have otherwise.

I release a heavy sigh and nod. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Her brows fly up. “Really?”

Something tells me I’m going to regret this.

“Yeah.”

She tugs her computer closer, and the excitement vibrating beneath her skin is enough to make her tremble in her chair. “You’re sure?”

I nod again—more to convince myself than to reassure her that I’m actually one hundred percent on board with this idea. “Yes.”

“Okay, well”—her fingers fly across the keys—“let me type up a quick draft and then we can discuss it, make changes, until you’re comfortable. Is that okay?”

Her green eyes flick up to meet mine, and an ache forms in the center of my sternum. Like I’m looking at something I thought I’d never see again. Maybe I didn’t think I would ever come back to McBride Mountain or have a chance to sit with her here like this again while I was gone.

Emotion clogs my throat, so I nod.

“And here.” She slides a bag across the floor to me. “In the meantime…”

“What’s this?”

“All the notes and postcards you sent me. You said you wanted to see it all. I already gave Sheriff Briggs the dates and locations to run down.”

“Oh…”