Page 155 of Lost Then Found
The real report. The one that never should’ve been replaced.
And right at the top, clear as day,PASS.
Miller, wasting no time, pulls out her phone and starts snapping pictures of each page.
The clerk rubs her temples. “I’m making a stop at the ladies’ room. By the time I get back, you two better be gone or I’m calling security.”
Miller doesn’t look up from her phone. “You are asaint,Deb. Your generosity knows no bounds.”
The clerk—Deb, apparently, according to her name tag—rolls her eyes and disappears down the hallway.
I watch Miller work. “This is illegal, isn’t it?”
She barely glances up. “Relax. We’re not stealing anything. Just taking alook. And if what we’re looking at just happens to be saved on my camera roll for later reference, that’s really just good journalism.”
I let out a quiet laugh but turn my attention to the documents in the folder, flipping through them with careful fingers. Then something catches my eye.
“Wait.” I pull out another page, skimming the contents before angling it toward Miller. “Look at this.”
Miller frowns, leaning in.
It’s another report, this one from a different business entirely—a small diner on the edge of town that shut down last year under suspicious circumstances. The inspector’s signature?
Also Rose Weaver.
We exchange looks.
“That’s not a coincidence.”
Miller nods, her expression hardening. “No, it’s not.”
I flip through the rest of the file, my fingers rough against the aging paper. More businesses that had shut down without the last year or so. Small ones, tucked away at the edges of town, nothing with the weight of the Bluebell but still—places people built from the ground up. Places that didn’t stand a chance.
And every single one of them?
Inspected by Rose Weaver.
“Jesus,” I mutter, pulling out another report. This one’s for a hardware shop that shut down eight months ago. The one beneath it is for a bakery I barely remember, and another for a feed store just outside of Summit Springs that lasted less than a year.
Miller doesn’t hesitate—she snaps pictures of each one, flipping the pages back with her free hand like she’s racing against a clock only she can hear.
“This many?” I shake my head. “Why the hell wouldn’t Wendell have these destroyed?”
Miller scoffs under her breath. “Because he never thought anyone would be looking.” She motions to the walls lined with cabinets. “Most peopledon’t get access back here, don’t even know where to start looking. If Lark hadn’t had people willing to dig, she never would’ve gotten this far.” She pauses, scrolling through the images on her phone. “It’s messy, though. Sloppy. I would think that someone like Wendell would cover his tracks better than this.”
I exhale sharply through my nose, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe someone else is pulling the strings.”
Miller hums, half-listening as she flips through the last few pages. Then she stills.
Her eyes narrow.
She tilts the file toward me, tapping a name at the bottom of one of the reports.
Vaughn Hart—land acquisition representative.
My stomach tightens. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
Miller lets out a low whistle. “Didn’t havethaton my bingo card either.”
