Colin nodded quickly. “I understand. I swear—I had nothing to do with this.”
Behind them, the muffled sound of applause swelled again as Hostess Rebecca tried to pass the time by bantering with the audience.
Duke took a slow breath.
Colin was circling the fire.
And circling fires got people burned.
Duke stepped back just enough to let the air between them shift—from confrontation to warning.
“Stay visible,” he barked. “No more sneaking around. If you learnanything—anything at all—you come to us. Don’t lurk in the shadows.”
Colin nodded again, clearly shaken. “Okay.”
Duke released him.
As Colin slipped back into the crowd, Duke’s gaze followed.
That power outage wasn’t random.
And Colin Hoffman might not be the threat.
But he was still their number one suspect right now.
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
I stood near the back.
I wasn’t exactly hidden. I was just . . . unremarkable.
That had always been the trick.
The crowd around me buzzed with excitement—true crime fans craning for a better view, whispering theories to one another, phones lifted in anticipation.
I blended easily into them, another face in a sea of curiosity and morbid fascination.
I liked it that way.
From here, I could see the stage clearly. The lights. The microphones. The podcasters—icons, really, to people who craved answers wrapped in suspenseful storytelling.
I’d listened to them since they started. I knew their voices. Their rhythms. The way they paused before saying something important.
I wondered—briefly, fondly—if my story would make it onto their podcast someday.
It deserved to.
The morning had gone exactly as I’d hoped. My lips curled as I remembered it all.
Gina had run, just as I’d anticipated.
She had run and run and run, lungs burning, feet raw, fear sharpening every sense until the world narrowed to instinct and breath.
I’d given her time. Space. Rules.
I was generous like that.
