Chapter 33- Grayhaven's web

Chapter 33- Grayhaven's web


CLAIRE

I stood there for a long time, staring at the web Evan had built. Strings like veins, photographs with ghostly faces, maps littered with ink and pins. Madness or method, I couldn’t tell which.

But then my eyes caught on the empty corkboard leaning against the wall, it was blank and unused

I reached for it, dragged it over, and set it on the desk.
“Alright,” I said, setting it down against the wall under Evan’s string-laced madness. “If you’re going to drag me into your obsession, you’re getting mine too.”

Evan arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth tipping. “Obsessions work better when shared? That’s new. Usually people run screaming.”

“Consider yourself lucky I don’t scare easy.” I grabbed a stack of sticky notes and a marker. My handwriting came out rough .Day one.

I slapped the note dead center on the board.

“It all began when I walked into town,” I said, the words dry. “First day here, I wasn’t exactly welcomed well everyone hated me before they knew me.”

Evan leaned his hip against the desk. “I don’t think they hated you. More like…professionally suspicious. Grayhaven’s allergic to outsiders.”

“Semantics.” I pressed the sticky harder into the cork. “But the first thing I noticed was off? I knew someone was following me.”

I wrote shadowed on the note, then stuck a pin through it.

Evan tilted his head,. “You didn’t tell me that part. You always had a tail?”

“Always,” I said flatly. “And I ignored it at first, because I thought I was being paranoid. Turns out, paranoia is just realism with better PR.”

That made him chuckle, I grabbed another note and wrote Thomas Wren in bold letters, pinning it beneath.

“Then Thomas Wren hired me to look into Cal Rourke’s case. Said Cal’s mother had begged him to find her son. Three nights before I came to Grayhaven, Cal went out before dawn, like always. Never came back. His boat drifted back half a mile from the southern pier—no damage, no struggle, just…empty.”

At the name, my stomach twisted. My marker hesitated before I scrawled Lydia Rourke and pinned it beneath her son.

“Rest in peace,” I muttered. My throat tightened.

Despite everything that happened I still blamed myself for Lydia. I should’ve stopped her that night.

Evan set his glass down and leaned closer “Claire. If blame was gasoline, Grayhaven would’ve burned a hundred times over by now. You can’t hold the match for every fire.”

I let out a breath through my nose. “Doesn’t change that she’s gone.”

“No,” he agreed softly. “But it changes what you do next.”

I stared at him for a second, then slid the notebook Lydia had given me out of my jacket. The leather was worn “She gave me this before she died. We’ll get back to it.”

I pinned Lydia’s notebook under her name.

“Next stop—the docks.” I scribbled Holt on a fresh sticky and pinned it. “Dock manager. Hates outsiders, lied to my face about Cal, pretended he was a saint. Spoiler: he wasn’t.”

Evan barked a laugh. “Sounds like Holt alright. He’s been allergic to outsiders since I was twelve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Glad to know it’s not just me.”

Another note: Biggs. I pinned it with a sharp stab. “Bitter old bastard, also hates outsiders. But at least he gave me something real. Said Cal was an alcoholic, drawn to the lighthouse.”

Evan tilted his head. “Sometimes drunks tell the truth better than sober men. They just slur it.”

“Yeah, well, he slurred enough for me to head straight to the lighthouse.”

I stepped back“That’s where it got real. Mason Brody’s body. My call to the county. Enter Acting Sheriff Nora Quinn.” I scrawled Nora Quinn in block letters, stabbing it into the board.
“First meeting, she shows her true colors. Covers up Mason’s death as a fall. Incompetent, manipulative, bitchy—take your pick. I despise her ass.”

“She’s not that bad,” Evan muttered, almost under his breath.

I swung toward him“What?”

“She’s not. Manipulative, sure, but—”

“Not that bad?” My blood was hot now. “She’s been covering cases left and right, burying evidence. She’s incompetent and dangerous, and you’re—what? Defending her?”

Evan lifted his hands, he was as calm as ever. “I’m not defending her. I’m saying she’s complicated.”

“You called her Nora.” i said “You always call her Nora. And at the pier, at the hospital—you were the only one who could rein her in. You two have…tension. What’s your relationship?”

For the first time tonight, he looked cornered. He ran a hand through his hair, he was even grumbling, “Fine. High school. We were…sweethearts. I broke it off when I left for L.A.”

I blinked, then burst out laughing. “Oh my god. You dated her? You dated that?”

His wince was priceless.

“And wait,” I added, pointing at him. “You’re defending her. Don’t tell me—you still have feelings for her.”

He shot me a look “Of course not.”

I smirked,i was savoring the rare moment of having him flustered. “Mm-hmm. Sure. Whatever you say, bookstore Romeo.”

I let the smirk linger a moment before turning back to the board. Whatever ghosts tied Evan to Nora Quinn, that was his baggage. Mine was figuring out why Grayhaven kept chewing people up and spitting them out.

I scribbled Mason Brody’s name bigger, underlined it twice, then stepped back. The board was beginning to look alive now—names, arrows and half-truths pinned like butterflies to cork. It was basically a museum of loss.

“Funny thing,” I murmured. “Every path I take, it curves back to the same place. Lighthouse. Quinn. Secrets. Like the whole town’s orbiting one rotten sun.”

Evan moved closer“That’s because it is. Grayhaven doesn’t just bury the dead—it buries the truth right along with them.”

I glanced over at him. His eyes were hazy. For a second, I wondered if he carried more secrets than the board ever could.

I tore another sticky free, pressing it into the mess .

The corkboard looked crowded already,Names and places were scattered but I knew it wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

“Alright,” I said, marker in my hand. “You remember telling me about the cannery?”