He gave her a barely perceptible nod.
They were ready.
At the end of the platform, the moderator—a polished, petite woman named Rebecca Kline, a well-known investigative reporter from Santa Clara—stepped forward with confident ease.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Rebecca said into the mic, her smile warm but professional. “Please help me welcome the hosts ofThe Round Table—Mariella Boucher, Matthew Boucher,Ranger Garrett, Simmy Garrett, Duke McAllister, and Andi Slade.”
A wave of applause rolled through the auditorium, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.
“Today, we’re digging into one of Santa Clara’s most persistent unsolved cases—the disappearance of eighteen-year-old Ellie Marston, who vanished after her late shift at the Pine Creek Diner almost twelve years ago,” Rebecca continued. “There were no suspects. No leads. Not even a confirmed sighting. She was just . . . gone.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Rebecca turned to the group. “I’d love to start by asking?—”
Before she could finish, the room went completely dark.
The darkness stretched longer than it should have.
Not long enough for panic—but long enough for Duke’s instincts to crawl fully awake.
Voices rustled through the auditorium. Nervous laughter. The scrape of chairs. Someone near the front called out a joke that didn’t land.
Cell phone lights came on, faintly lighting the space.
Duke stayed still, counting breaths, tracking sound, memorizing where everyone onstage was by the subtle shifts in air and movement.
Then—
The lights snapped back on.
Duke blinked once.
And froze.
At the back of the auditorium, half-hidden by the aisle and a concrete pillar, stood a familiar figure.
Colin Hoffman.
Gina’s ex-boyfriend.
He stood rigid, eyes locked on the stage—onthem.
Duke’s jaw tightened. What was he doing here?
Rupert rushed onstage, hands raised, voice amplified into crisis-mode cheer. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience! A brief technical hiccup—absolutely nothing to worry about! Please give it up for our incredible venue staff?—”
Duke slid off the stage as quietly as possible, moving along the edge where lighting rigs and curtains swallowed him from view. A security guard glanced his way, distracted by Rupert’s frantic optimism.
Duke stepped out from backstage. He kept his head down and moved fast as he cut down the aisle by the audience.
Colin spotted him, and the man’s eyes widened.
Then he bolted.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
