"My mom's the detective, remember? It's genetic." She pointed to the heavy ledger book. "Is that the Thorne family's payroll or something?"
Nyon sighed, closing the book with a heavy thud. He patted the space next to him. "Sit down. If you're going to stick your neck out, you should at least know what you're sticking it out for."
Hollie sat, keeping a careful distance.
"This is the private financial ledger of the Silent Pines Mill from 1978 to 1982," Nyon explained, running his finger along the brittle cover. "The Thorns didn't just own the mill; they basically owned the town. But by '82, they were fighting constantly. Their finances were a mess. Leo Thorne, the boy who 'fell,' was the only son."
"And you think it wasn't an accident," Hollie finished.
"I know it wasn't." Nyon reached into the wooden box—the one she’d seen him carrying—which was sitting on the floor beside the couch. He pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of drawing paper and handed it to her.
It was another charcoal drawing, identical to the one she'd found, only this one was signed, in scratchy script: L.T.
"Leo Thorne was fourteen," Nyon said, his voice dropping low. "This was found in his locker after he disappeared. He drew the same shadow figure again and again in his notebooks before he vanished. A shadow overlooking the gorge, the same silhouette you found."
"Why haven't you told anyone, or gone to the police?"
"I tried. When I was fifteen. I told the old police chief that my grandfather used to talk about the mill and the shadows—they laughed me out of the station. They call it a legend. They say the town needs the silence." Nyon looked at her, his dark eyes intense. "Your mother is new. She might actually listen."
"You want me to take the drawing and the ledger to Luna."
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