Detective Miles Evans was investigating a vandalism report, not a homicide. But the chill that settled in his bones as he stood in the overgrown clearing felt colder than any murder scene. This was Oakwood Rest, a cemetery that didn't exist on any map. And every single headstone bore a name he knew.Not just any names. There was Anna Riggs, his daughter’s vibrant, young schoolteacher. Ben Carter, the owner of the diner where he ate every Tuesday. And there, beneath a moss-streaked angel, was his own name: Miles Evans. Beloved Father. The date of death was blank.His partner scoffed. “A