The trailer sat at the edge of the woods like it had been dropped there by accident.

Rust stained the seams. The porch sagged. A tangle of vines curled around the door like nature was trying to swallow the place whole.

Averie and Wes stepped out of the truck and approached slowly, crunching gravel under their boots.

She held the journal in her hands.

A peace offering. Or a weapon.

Maybe both.

The door opened before they even knocked.

Ray Matheson stood there, older than Hazel remembered - gray stubble, faded eyes, a flannel shirt pulled over shoulders that looked like they used to carry more than just wood and tools.

He didn't speak.

He just stared at her.

Averie held up the journal.

"She wrote about you," she said. "She said you knew where they sent her."

Ray's gaze flicked to the leather cover. Then to her face.

"You look like her," he said quietly. "Same fire."

"Then tell me what they did to her," Averie said. "Please."

He didn't open the door wider.

But he didn't shut it either.

"Come in." He muttered as he walked back into the house

The trailer was small. Clean, in a tired way. Coffee on the stove. Papers stacked neatly. A life of solitude.

He sat in a recliner like it was a throne he never asked for.

Averie sat across from him, Wes beside her.

Ray looked at the journal again.

"I thought this was gone," he said. "She used to keep it in her coat pocket. Said if they ever silenced her completely, she wanted something to scream for her."

"She said you knew where they buried the rest of her," Averie whispered.

Ray's jaw tightened.

"They told the papers she died in '92," he said. "Truth is, she got out of that hospital. With help. She was supposed to testify. About the Trust. The funds. The fake charities her husband funneled through."

Averie's hands clenched.

"But they got to her again?" Wes asked.

Ray nodded. "Not physically. They didn't need to. They scared her. Threatened her. Said if she opened her mouth, her son - your father - would pay the price."

Averie's throat closed.

"She was protecting him," she said, stunned.

Ray nodded. "Always. Even when he forgot how to protect her."

Averie looked down at the tape in her bag. "I have her voice. Her story. I'm going to release it."

Ray looked at her for a long moment. Then he stood and walked to a drawer.

He pulled out a small box.

Inside - a locket. A cassette. A letter.

"She gave me this the day she disappeared for the last time," he said. "Told me to wait. To give it to the one who came not to ask why, but to ask how."

Averie took the letter.

The envelope had one word on the front.

Averie.

Her breath hitched.

"She knew I'd come."

"She hoped," Ray said. "She said if the fire skipped a generation, it'd burn hotter in the next."

Averie opened the letter slowly.

"My girl,

If you've found this, you've already done more than I could. You've made them

afraid. Good. Make them run. Then build something better with the ashes."

"Don't waste your love like I did. Don't let them take him from you."

"Be bold. Be loud. Be dangerous. They can't silence us both."

All my heart,

- Grandmother Evelyn"

Averie's hands trembled.

Wes reached over and took one in his.

Ray gave a slow nod. "You ready to finish it?"

Averie looked up, fire alive in her eyes.

"I was born ready."

Back at the Langford estate, Senator Langford stood in his study holding the journal page Hazel had leaked to the press that morning.

He read the words twice. Then again.

And for the first time in a very long time, he looked afraid