I think this town deserves to see it, too. " Douglas glances around the room, feeling the weight of every eye on him. Finally, reluctantly, he nods. Go ahead, deputy. Addie steps forward, calm despite the moment, and gestures toward the back of the room.
Rosie wheels in an old television, the same one Priya wired up the night before. The camera in Rosie's kitchen was thought to be broken for years, Addie says. Turns out the wiring was only intermittent. It's been recording in bursts, including the afternoon earlier this week when $200 went missing. She presses play.
Grainy footage fills the screen. Timestamped. Unmistakable. Grant slipping behind the counter. Reaching into an apron hanging on the hook, folding bills into the pocket, sliding back to his booth.
Seconds later, the room erupts into murmurs, gasps. A few sharp intakes of breath. Grant's face has gone pale, his father's jaw tight beside him. "That footage could be doctored, " Everett says quickly, though his voice waivers slightly. It's timestamped and verified by the county technician.
Addie says, "Feel free to check. " Chase, sitting near the back, stands up suddenly, chair scraping loud against the floor. His face has gone white, hands shaking slightly at his sides. "I can't do this, " he says, voice cracking. "I knew I was there.
Every eye in the room turns to him, but he keeps talking anyway. " Grant planted that money. It was his idea. I should have said something sooner. I've barely slept since it happened.
I kept telling myself it wasn't my problem. It was always my problem. I just didn't want it to be. He sits back down, hands over his face, shoulders shaking, the room silent around him. Dean beside him doesn't say anything, but he doesn't look away either.
His own guilt sits plainly on his face, unhidden for the first time all week. A side door opens. Ryan steps into the room, pale but steady. He walks straight to the front, ignoring Grant's furious glare. He'd spent the last hour sitting in his truck outside, engine off, hands on the wheel, thinking.
Thinking about his sister, thinking about his father's old words about silence and cowardice, thinking about Josie, standing calm in that diner, refusing to run from any of it. Somewhere in that hour, staying quiet stopped feeling like the safer option. I have something to say, too, he tells the council. Grant threatened me. Told me to stay quiet about what I saw.
Offered me a job if I kept my mouth shut. Threatened to take it away if I didn't. He pulls out his phone, hand shaking slightly. I recorded some of it. I didn't know what else to do with it.
I almost deleted it twice this week. I'm glad I didn't. He plays a short clip. Grant's voice, unmistakable, threatening, casual, cruel. The room listens in stunned silence.
When it ends, Ryan looks up, meeting Josie's eyes across the crowded room. I'm sorry it took me this long, he says quietly. I should have said something at the diner. Josie gives him a small nod. Not forgiveness exactly.