“Okay.” She takes a breath. “Okay. We can’t fall apart. Not yet.”
“Alex—”
“No, listen.” Her voice steadies. Goes into planning mode. That accountant voice. “Falling apart doesn’t help that girl. It doesn’t keep you safe. It doesn’t stop the nameless murderer.”
She’s right. But her eyes are still scared.
“So what do we do?” I ask.
She grabs my hand. Squeezes hard. Like she’s holding on for both of us.
“You should tell the authorities,” she finally says.
I sit up, wiping my face. “I can’t go to the police.”
“Why not?”
“The NDA.” I’m crying again. Realizing I just told her everything.
“The same one I signed.”
That’s right. We both signed the same NDA.
“Everything I heard is protected. Attorney-client privilege. And even if I broke it—if I risked my entire career—there’s no body. No crime scene. Dom erased everything.”
“But you heard?—”
“My word against a client and Dom Draven?” I shake my head. “Alex, there’s no evidence this ever happened. It’s like she never existed.”
“So we’re just—” Alex’s voice breaks. “We can’t do anything?”
“There is some girl out there, rotting,” I choke on my words. “A family looking for her. And they won’t find her. I can’t find her.”
“Did you check to see if anyone is missing that meets the description?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I shake my head. “It’s like a bad dream.”
“I haven’t had a cigarette in years.” Alex blows a raspberry. “But I’m really feeling the need for a menthol right now.”
The absurdity of it—menthol specifically—breaks through.
I laugh despite myself, and just like that I can take a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I don’t know what to do either.” She reaches over, drinks her cereal milk, and sets it back down. “But I have an idea.”
“That was fast.”
“I’m an accountant. We’re efficient.” She taps my nose. “We investigate. Find out who she was. Build a case file.”
“How?” I ask. “We can’t just show up asking questions. If Dom finds out?—”
“We’ll be careful.” Alex is already thinking. “Monitor missing persons reports every day. Check social media groups—Facebook, Reddit, the neighborhood pages. Try to find out if Dahlia was her name or just the club’s name. We document everything. Every detail you remember.”
My paralegal brain catches up. “Research. I can do research. If he’s killed before—and he has—there might be patterns. Other unsolved murders.”
“Yes.” Alex nods. “And when there’s another victim—because there will be—we’ll have proof of his pattern.”
“Evidence the police should have built.” I’m thinking like a lawyer now. “Multiple victims, same MO, same perpetrator.”
