ELENA POV
Whitefish, Montana.
Population 9,000. Give or take.
Its a small town.
Nestled between mountains and a lake so blue it looked fake. Pine trees everywhere. Air so clean it almost hurt to breathe after months of hospital pain and city.
Beautiful. Peaceful. Exactly the kind of place a man running from his past would choose to live.
I checked into a motel on the edge of town. Cash. Gave the name Sarah Miller.
The irony of using that name wasn't lost on me.
The room was small. Clean enough. A bed, a desk, a bathroom with a mirror that showed me someone I still didn't fully recognize.
I dumped my bag on the bed and got to work.
I'd brought everything I'd compiled. Notes. Maps. Photographs. The list of properties linked to Brighton's shell companies unsealed.
Three properties in the Whitefish area.
