“I’m serious.” My heart hammers as I grip the back of the couch, fingers digging into the fabric. “I can’t be responsible for someone else getting killed, okay? This is—”
“Scarlett,” she cuts in. “Why don’t you relax and take a breath?”
“I can’t.” My steps quicken as I cross the room and back again. “Just listen. Please. Think about the books, the crimes. Tell me you don’t see it.”
A pause. “I guess they’re somewhat similar?”
“Somewhat similar?” I rub the heel of my hand against my temple. “Almost everything’s the same! And the episodes aired on the same nights both times. How can you not see it?”
She sighs, and I can practically picture her leaning back in her chair. Maybe it’s not that she doesn’t see it but that she doesn’twantto. “Scarlett, there are other podcasts out there covering these books. They’re bestsellers, for crying out loud.”
“But we’re the only one in Willowbrook,” I argue. “That can’t be by chance.”
“Okay. Let’s say you’re right. You know Booked It is struggling. If we stopped airingMurders & Manuscripts, I’d have to fire you and everyone else.” She clears her throat. “And besides, shutting down the podcast might make this whole situation worse.”
“What do you mean?” My steps falter, and I stop in the middle of the room, staring blankly at the floor.
“If the killer is using the podcast for their murders and we cut them off—” She hesitates. “We don’t know how they’ll react. They could go on a spree. Or even target… us. You, me, our families.”
I swallow hard, the thought sending a chill through me. “So we just do nothing?”
“No.” Her voice firms up. “I’m going to the police and telling them what’s happening.”
“But I tried, and they—”
“They’ll listen to me, Scarlett.”
Right. If anyone can make the police listen, it’s her.
“I’ve got this.”
I rub a sore spot on my shoulder. “Okay. Please, make sure they take it seriously.”
“I will.”
I breathe out, feeling like I’ve lost a hundred pounds off my shoulders already. Celeste being on my side is the closest thing to a parent watching over me that I have left, and I hadn’t even realized how much I needed that today.
“Thank you,” I say, before Mrs. Prattle’s gossip comes back to me.
Celeste should be able to count on me the same way I count on her, shouldn’t she?
“And hey, Celeste, if you… if you ever want to talk about anything—not just work but everything else—you can. You know that, right?”
She sighs. “Oh, boy. What did you hear?”
“Nothing,” I rush out, hoping it sounds convincing enough. “I just… I’m always depending on you. I want you to know you can count on me, too.”
“That’s sweet, Scarlett. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I bite my lip, giving her a moment to talk. When she says nothing, I venture, “So… everything good with you? Steve? The kids?”
“Everything’s great, sweetie. Lara is still at UConn, Chrisgraduates from high school next year. And Steve always asks about you.”
I smile, though it’s a sad little grin. I’ll respect her right to privacy and won’t call her out on her lie, but I wish she felt free to discuss all of this with me.
“I’ll head to the police station now. Okay? I’ll talk to you soon.”
The line clicks off, and I let my phone fall onto the couch. For a moment, I just stand there, staring at nothing, my chest tight. Then, with a shaky breath, I turn and head for the bathroom.
