Casper yanked a towel from the rack, drying his hair as he strolled out of the bathroom. Damn, that really hurt. "What's this big secret you've got? Spill it." ""Mr. Casper, it's Mikey-your wife's father. He's not dead." Casper, who had been wincing from the pain, suddenly went still. "What did you just say? Mikey isn't dead?" "Not only is he alive, but he also changed his nand moved to Crescent Creek. He got married and even had kids..." Casper was floored. Then, who was the guy who supposedly committed suicide in prison? And who got buried? "Did you see him?" When Mikey was arrested, Eliza had begged Casper, with tears streaming down her face, to find a way to clear her father's name. Casper had asked around about Mikey, but he admitted he hadn't put much effort into it at the time. Eliza always suspected-and eventually believed that he had set up Mikey's arrest.
But it wasn't him.
Casper stroked his chin, trying to piece together the events from back then. Could this be a classic case of faking one's death? "You askedto look into Mikey's supposed suicide, right? Well, the officer who handled the case is in Crescent Creek. He said Mikey was released for lack of evidence and that the suicide was completely made up. Mikey's been living comfortably in Crescent Creek." Casper couldn't believe it. The highly publicized suicide was fake news? Just like Eliza's death three years ago? Why does this all sound so familiar? The sfake death, the sfake news, the sfake ashes...
All these deceptions seemed to point to one person-Aaron.
Could Aaron be the mastermind behind all this? He's orchestrating a grand scheme. But what was his endgame? "Dillon, find him and bring him to Oak Falls immediately, by any means necessary. I need to see him right away." "Understood." Aaron, his brother-in-arms for over a decade, had not only stolen his wife but also turned against him, harboring secrets no one else knew. This just got interesting.
After leaving Casper's house, Eliza sat on a bench by the road for a long while, hermood sour. It wasn't unti her neighbor called, asking when she'd be home, that she snapped out of her daze and headed back to take care of her son.
The night sky hung above as streetlights cast long shadows of the passersby. Eliza walked slowly, lost in thought, and absentmindedly wandered into a dark alley. The streetlight was out, but doubling back would take too long, so she quickened her pace to reach the end of the alley and then called a cab.