"Maybe," I hedge, because if there's one thing I've learned, it's to err on the side of caution. We might deal in facts, but emotions are rarely far behind. Emotions can alter stories, exaggerate events, place hope where none should exist.
"Maybe," she agrees. "And maybe that means we can start using this to create episodes. We need them," she reminds me, not that I need reminding. I am all too aware of our download stats, our decrease in podcast subscribers.
"I'm going to begin working on backstory, on creating the story around what happened. But also, I'm bringing in a digital marketing agency."
My eyes bulge. "Jolene, we've talked about this. We can?—"
"No, we can't. I mean this with all the love in the world. Get out of your own way."
"That didnotsound loving."
"Tough love, toots. Now, listen. I did some work for a company called P Squared Marketing. Legal stuff. A majority of their business is focused on brick and mortar concepts, but I asked if they ever work on promoting podcasts or other forms of media. The owner, Paisley, told me they have experience creating a social media campaign for an aspiring author, and he now has a publishing deal." Jolene pauses, giving me a chance to react.
"That's really cool, but I don't see what it has to do with us."
"I asked if she'd have a meeting with us. Over the computer, obviously, since you're in Olive Township."
My first inclination is to decline, but I can't stand to dash the pleading hope on Jolene's face. "One meeting," I concede. Jolene has been by my side since college, indulging me in my crazy dream to start a podcast. I owe her at least a meeting with a marketing company.
Jolene breathes a sigh of relief. "I'll text you the details and email over the meeting link. I better skedaddle, my lunch break is up in a few."
"But you didn't eat lunch."
"I run on coffee, legalese, and the occasional cigarette that I fucking hate but everyone else does it so I do it, too." She grins at my shaking head. "I'm not happy thatyou're choosing not to tell the police about your photos. Stay there with Hugo, alright? Don't go back to that hotel."
"Obviously. But I can't stay here. There's another place in town. A lot nicer than the inn."
"Why can't you stay here?" Hugo's voice curls over my shoulders.
Chapter 24
Mallory
I whip around,suddenly painfully aware of my bedraggled wet hair, my belly peeking from my cropped tank top. I didn't think I'd see him this early, so I hadn't considered him when dressing. Didn't he say he had a full day today? I could swear that's what he told me this morning before dawn had dared to crack.
Any preoccupation with how I look disappears the moment my eyes find Hugo. He's a little dirty, and a little sweaty, and he's wearing a backwards baseball cap. He walks closer, pushing up the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt, palms gliding over muscled forearms.
Good thing there isn't a doorway anywhere nearby for him to grip the top of the frame. I'd be a goner.
What happened to the pregnant lady?
Oh, she melted into the floor. Don't mind her, step over the large puddle.
My eyes track Hugo as he approaches, stopping right behind me. I look up at him, into the dark brown eyesfringed in sooty lashes, the sharp arc of his generous eyebrows. So unfairly thick and shapely. Lost on a man.
"Hey," I say, swallowing around what can only be described as cactus needles in my throat.
"Why can't you stay here?" he asks again, looking down at me. His eyes burn with intensity, as if this is the most important question he can possibly ask me.
"She can," Jolene pipes up. "And she will."
Hugo looks over my head, finding my outspoken best friend on the screen.
"Hello. I'm Hugo."
Jolene grins. "I know who you are."
I turn around on the stool, shooting a stern look at Jolene.Act rightI say with my eyes. "This is Jolene. My best friend and producer of Case Files."
