Nina Reyes's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Nina wiped down the bar top in slow circles, watching the door. Three years of pouring drinks and asking careful questions had brought her close enough that the sheriff was looking her way again. Now a stranger walks in asking about the canyon, and she has to decide fast whether he's dangerous or useful. The man settled onto a stool and ordered a beer. He was maybe thirty, clean-shaven, wearing clothes too new for this place. Through the window behind him, Nina saw his bike — red and glossy, the kind that cost more than most people here made in six months. He sipped his drink, then asked about the canyon behind Ruiz's property like he was asking about the weather. Nina's hand tightened on the rag. Nobody asked about that canyon unless they knew something or wanted to find out. She poured herself water and met his eyes. "Canyon's just a canyon," she said. He smiled, the kind that could mean anything. Then he slid a folded paper across the bar. Nina opened it with one hand, keeping the other near the phone. The note was covered in cramped handwriting — dates, times, details about vehicles and uniforms that matched what her father had seen. Things an outsider shouldn't know. She looked up, her pulse loud in her ears. The man stood and dropped cash on the bar. "There's a twisted tree at the edge," he said quietly. "Twenty yards east, buried six feet down." He walked out before she could speak. Nina stared at the note, her father's last words echoing in her head. For the first time in three years, she wasn't alone in this fight — or she'd just been handed the rope to hang herself with.