Chapter Four: Unraveling Threads

Saint's determination to uncover the truth about his father's death and the secrets that haunted Ashton Hill deepened with each passing day. He had begun to feel the weight of his father's legacy, not just as a burden, but as a call to action. The town, with its hidden histories and whispers, seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the revelations that Saint's presence might bring.

Saint spent his mornings at the library, poring over old newspapers and town records, searching for any clues that might shed light on his father's enemies. The afternoons were spent at the Hargrove house, sorting through boxes of personal belongings and letters. The evenings, however, often found him at the diner, where he would talk with Emily and share his findings.

One such evening, Emily joined him in the corner booth, carrying two cups of coffee. "Any luck today?" she asked, sliding into the seat across from him.

Saint shook his head, frustration is evident in his eyes. "Not much. I've found a few names that keep popping up in my father's letters and notes, but nothing concrete. It's like trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing."

Emily sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "Maybe we need to look at it from a different angle. Instead of focusing on the people who might have wanted to harm your father, what about those he helped? Maybe they saw something or heard something."

Saint considered this, nodding slowly. "It's worth a shot. My father was always helping people. Someone may know more than they've let on."

Over the next few days, Saint began visiting people who had known his father well. He started with the older residents of Ashton Hill, those who had been around during the time of Daniel Hargrove's death. Each visit brought small pieces of the puzzle to light, but it wasn't until he spoke with Mrs. Thompson, the town's unofficial historian, that he uncovered a significant lead.

"Your father was a good man, Saint," Mrs. Thompson said, her wrinkled hands clasped tightly around a mug of tea. "He did a lot for this town. But he also made powerful enemies. There was one man, in particular, a developer named Richard Colton. He wanted to buy up land here for a big project, and your father was one of the few who stood in his way."

"Richard Colton," Saint repeated, jotting the name down in his notebook. "What happened to him?"

"He left town not long after your father died," Mrs. Thompson replied. "But I've heard he's back in the area. Bought up some land just outside of town."

Saint thanked Mrs. Thompson and left her house with a renewed sense of purpose. Richard Colton was a name he hadn't come across in his research, and if Colton was back in town, it was worth finding out why.

The next day, Saint drove to the outskirts of Ashton Hill, following the directions Mrs. Thompson had given him. He found himself on a narrow, winding road that led to a large, gated property. A sign read "Colton Enterprises" in bold letters.

Saint parked his car and approached the gate. He pressed the intercom button and waited. A crackling voice responded. "Yes?"

"I'm here to see Richard Colton," Saint said, keeping his tone neutral.

There was a pause before the voice responded. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's important. Tell him it's about Daniel Hargrove."

Another pause, longer this time. Then the gate slowly swung open. Saint walked up the long driveway, his heart pounding with anticipation and nerves. The house at the end was a modern, sprawling mansion, a stark contrast to the rustic charm of Ashton Hill.

Richard Colton met him at the door, a tall, imposing figure with silver hair and sharp, calculating eyes. "Saint Hargrove," he said, extending a hand. "I've been expecting you."

Saint shook his hand, the grip firm and cool. "You knew my father."

"I did," Colton replied, leading him inside. "He was a formidable man. Come, let's talk."

They sat in a spacious study, the walls lined with books and the air heavy with the scent of leather and polished wood. Colton leaned back in his chair, studying Saint with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"What brings you here after all these years?" Colton asked.

"I'm trying to find out what happened to my father," Saint said. "And I think you might have some answers."

Colton sighed, rubbing his temples. "Your father and I were on opposite sides of a very contentious issue. He wanted to preserve the town, and I wanted to develop it. It created a lot of tension. But I had nothing to do with his death if that's what you're implying."

"Then who did?" Saint pressed.

Colton's eyes hardened. "There were many people who didn't want your father around. He made a lot of enemies by standing up for what he believed in. If you're looking for someone to blame, you'll have to dig deeper."

Saint left Colton's mansion with more questions than answers. The conversation had confirmed that his father had been involved in something much bigger than Saint had realized, but it hadn't provided the clarity he sought. Yet, he felt a renewed determination to continue his search. Someone in Ashton Hill held the key to the truth, and he was getting closer to finding it.

As the days turned into weeks, Saint's investigation took him deeper into the hidden corners of the town's history. He uncovered old grudges, secret alliances, and long-buried scandals. Each discovery brought him one step closer to the truth about his father's death and the unfinished business that had brought him back to Ashton Hill.

And through it all, the people of Ashton Hill watched and waited, their lives intertwined with the unfolding mystery. Saint had become a catalyst for change, and the quiet town could sense that nothing would ever be the same again.
To be continued...
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