In an attempt to help Sawyer figure out her past, mainly her mother’s connection to Outskirts, I found myself alone, scouring the back room of the library to look for any evidence that Caroline Dixon or Caroline Ellen had existed on paper in this town. I’d gone through a couple of hundred dusty files from boxes that fell apart the second I removed the lid when I finally came across a document with Caroline Dixon’s name on it.

And then I got angry.

“Why have you been lying to Sawyer? About knowing her mother?” I seethed, bursting through the back door of Critter’s. He was in the back alley smoking a cigar.

“Why hello to you too, Finn. Nice seeing ya,” he said in that low baritone of his. “I’m fine. Business is great. Thanks for asking.”

“We can do all that later. First, I need to know why you’ve been lying to Sawyer.”

Critter leaned back against the wall and took a drag of his cigar, blowing out the smoke in rings into the sky. “It’s a long story. Longer than you are old.”

“I need to know it.”

“And why is that?” Critter asked.

I gave Critter a knowing look.

“I swear to God boy, if you fuck that girl over imma give you a beatin’ the likes of which this town has never seen. Is that understood?” Critter asked.

Critter’s threats used to piss me off but this one didn’t. I liked that Sawyer had another protector in Critter. He’d been like the angry uncle I’d never wanted my entire life.

“Good. I’d expect you to.”

Critter nodded and held out his hand. Instead of shaking it I placed the document in it. “Now tell me why you’ve been lying to my girl.”

“Follow me,” Critter grumbled. I followed him into the kitchen where he poured us both a shot of whiskey into red Solo cups. “Cheers,” he said, we clanked our cups together and took our shots.

He walked over to his desk, just a rectangular piece of wood in the corner with mountains of papers and receipts scattered over the top. He opened a drawer, pulled out a yellow piece of paper and handed it to me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“This is everything. The reason why I’ve been lying to Sawyer. The reason why she doesn’t know half of what’s been going on since she’s gotten here.”

I read the flyer several times to make sure what I was reading was right.

I remember Sawyer mentioning the name. “It’s the church she grew up in, right?” I asked, glancing up at Critter who downed another shot and walked into the bar area. I followed and slapped the flyer down on the bar.

“What does all this mean?” I asked, growing frustrated.

“It means that I need to tell you a story about a man by the name of Richard Dixon. The lowest cocksucker that ever crawled across this dirt ball we call earth. That rat bastard is one of the heads of that church.”

“But it’s just a coincidence, right? Sawyer told me that her dad doesn’t know where she is and that he can’t find her because he never knew about the land,” I said, knowing right as the words left my mouth that I was wrong.

Critter raised his bushy brows at me.

“That’s not true though, is it?”

Critter shook his head. “Sawyer thinks it is. And for right now it’s better that way. That girl has already been through too much. She don’t need to worry…unless the time comes when she needs to worry.”

I started to panic. Sawyer was with Josh at her place but I needed to know what we were up against. “Critter, you have to give me something here,” I was practically begging. “I have to protect her. Tell me what you know. I can’t fight for her if I don’t know who or what I’m fighting.”

Critter sighed. “I got that today. I was coming to talk to you tonight,” he said, and by Critter’s standards, it was about as close to an apology as anyone ever got.

“Richard Dixon knows exactly where Sawyer is. He’s probably known where she was before she even got here,” Critter explained.

“How?” I asked, still not a hundred percent understanding.

“Because it’s the only way he’s like me. Knows the comings and goings of everyone around him.” Critter looked around like he was searching for something. “Just know, that for right now, I’ve got eyes on that bastard, and when he comes,” Critter reached under the counter and produced his shotgun. He pumped it and the click echoed throughout the empty bar. “We’ll be ready for him.” He leaned forward on the bar. “Are you in or you out?”

“I’m in,” I said, without hesitation. “Of course, I’m in.”

Critter clapped me on the back. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. Then it’s about time I tell you a little story about a man named Richard Dixon. The motherfucker who calls himself Sawyer’s father.”

“Why do you keep calling him Richard Dixon?” I asked, realizing that Critter kept going out of his way to say his name instead of calling him Sawyer’s dad.

Critter set the gun down on the counter. “Because, he’s not Sawyer’s dad,” he grated.

He opened his wallet and handed me a picture of a woman who looked just like Sawyer except with blonde hair. She was smiling at the camera and had her arms around her good-sized baby bump. He then slapped down the document I’d given him. The marriage license listing Caroline Dixon as the bride and Critter Templeton as the groom.

He looked me in the eye. “Because I am.”