Greyford did not announce endings. It let them settle.
The evening moved in quietly, the sky low and heavy, clouds hanging as if unsure whether to break or drift on. Vince stood near the edge of the square, hands in his pockets, watching people return home with the slow familiarity of routine. The town was not hiding tonight. It was waiting.
Claire stepped out of the clinic behind him, locking the door with practiced ease. She hesitated when she saw him there, as if she had expected him to be gone already.
"You're still here," she said.
"For now," Vince replied.
They stood together without facing each other. The space between them was close but careful. Over the last few days, that space had been shrinking in small ways neither of them acknowledged. A look held half a second longer. A question left unasked. A shared silence that no longer felt empty.
Claire broke it first. "You ever get the feeling this place knows when you're paying attention?"
Vince smiled faintly. "Most places do. People just don't notice."
She nodded, then glanced toward the far end of the square. Her expression changed. Not dramatically. Just enough.
Vince followed her gaze.
A man stood near the streetlamp across the road. Tall. Still. Watching without pretense. He did not belong to the flow of the town, did not move with it. The light caught his face briefly before he stepped back into shadow.
Claire's shoulders tightened.
"You see him?" she asked, low.
"Yes."
"You know who that is," she said. It was not a question.
Vince did not answer immediately. He watched the man turn slightly, as if aware he was being discussed. There was something deliberate in the way he stood, in how little he tried to blend in.
"I've seen him around," Vince said finally.
Claire exhaled slowly. "He wasn't gone long enough to be forgotten," she murmured. "Just long enough that people stopped saying his name."
That confirmed it. Vince looked at her now. "You recognize him."
"I recognize the way people used to look when he was mentioned," she said. "And the way they stopped."
She hesitated, then added, "I don't know why he left. Or why he's back. But no one ever talked about it openly."
Across the street, the man began to walk. Not toward them. Not away. Parallel. Close enough to be noticed. Far enough to avoid confrontation.
Vince felt the shift in the air. The town felt it too.
"Claire," he said quietly, "you should head home."
She looked at him, really looked. "You think this is about you."
"I think he wants me to think it is."
That earned a small, uneasy smile from her. "That's not reassuring."
The man stopped near the old fountain. He turned fully now, meeting Vince's gaze without hesitation. There was no hostility in his expression. No warmth either. Just assessment.
Vince walked toward him before Claire could protest.
Evan stood near the edge of the square, close enough to be seen, far enough to be ignored by everyone else. He looked older than Vince expected. Not worn. Just settled, like someone who had learned how to wait.
"You stayed longer than most," Evan said.
Vince did not answer right away. He stopped beside him, eyes forward.
"People leave Greyford," Vince said. "Some come back."
Evan smiled faintly. "Only the ones who never really left."
Vince glanced at him then. Just once.
"You sound sure."
"I've watched it happen."
Claire stood several steps behind Vince now. She did not interrupt, but she did not leave. Her presence was steady, grounded.
"You've been asking careful questions," Evan continued. "Looking at patterns instead of people. That's usually how it starts."
Vince's jaw tightened. "Starts what."
"Understanding," Evan said. "And then consequences."
There it was. Not a threat. A statement.
"You've been gone a long time," Vince said.
"Long enough," Evan replied. "Not long enough to stop caring."
Claire shifted. "You don't work here anymore," she said. "Whatever this is, it's not your place."
Evan glanced at her, recognition flickering briefly. "You work at the clinic," he said. "You were still in school when I left."
Her eyes narrowed. "You remember."
"I remember what matters."
That unsettled her more than anger would have.
Vince stepped slightly forward, blocking the exchange. "You know my name. You know my habits. That tells me you've been watching."
"Or reading," Evan said. "Files have long memories. So do towns."
Vince understood then. Police records. Case transfers. Notes that never quite disappear. If Robert Mercer wanted something buried, someone like this man would know where to look.
"It seems you've been doing some research on me," Vince said carefully.
"I know what happened to her," Evan said. "I know the case you were working on when she died. I know how often men like you blame themselves."
Claire's breath caught softly behind Vince.
"You don't get to talk about her," Vince said. His voice was level, but his body had gone still.
"I'm not," Evan replied. "I'm talking about you."
Silence stretched between them.
Evan stepped back. "Greyford doesn't like attention," he said. "It prefers quiet arrangements. You're disrupting that."
"Good," Vince said.
A pause. Then a nod. "We'll see."
He turned and walked away, disappearing between two buildings without looking back.
Claire waited until he was gone before speaking. "That was Evan Hale," she said. Saying the name felt like breaking a rule.
"Yes," Vince said.
"You didn't deny it."
"No."
She studied him. "You didn't tell me everything either."
"No."
For a moment, neither spoke. Then Claire stepped closer. Too close. Her hand brushed his arm, tentative, grounding.
"You don't have to carry it alone," she said.
Vince looked down at her. At the concern she was trying not to show. At the connection forming despite better judgment.
He leaned in without thinking. The moment hovered, fragile and real.
Their lips met briefly.
Then Vince pulled back. Not abruptly. Not rejecting. Just enough.
Claire understood immediately. She did not push. Did not ask.
"I know," she said softly.
He closed his eyes for a second. Images surfaced uninvited. A voice. A laugh. A life cut short by choices he had made.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She shook her head. "Don't be."
They stood there as the night settled fully over Greyford. Somewhere, a door closed. A car engine faded. The town resumed its quiet, but something underneath had shifted.
Evan Hale had returned.
And nothing that followed would remain buried for long.
Vol.3 End...