Unraveling Porterville's Dark Secret

Previously

…“Alright, Thompson,” I said, the words heavy with a decision I’d been resisting for weeks. “Let’s talk. About that mill. And about what Mrs. Jenkins might know.” He nodded, a flicker of relief in his eyes. The unspoken truce was formed. The detective and the journalist, bound by the shared, suffocating weight of Porterville’s secrets, standing on the precipice of a truth that was slowly, agonizingly, beginning to unravel. The hum of the fluorescent lights in the squad room suddenly felt less like a soundtrack to despair and more like the prelude to something far more dangerous, and far more revealing.