Setting the camera down and using the display screen to line up his shot probably would have been adequate, but she liked the way he wanted to see it with his eye before he tried to capture what he was seeing with the lens.
“Another book cover for your uncle?” she asked when he was on his feet again, brushing debris from the ground off his clothes.
He grinned. “Or for your book, if you ever write one about Elizabeth.”
“I’ve thought about it,” she admitted, feeling the heat in her cheeks. “But there really isn’t enough information available for an entire book. And, as we’ve agreed, stories with no ending are a letdown.”
After ensuring it was solid and bug-free, Hannah sat on a fallen log, and she wasn’t surprised when he sat next to her. His camera was still in his hand, and he snapped a few more pictures.
Then he put the lens cap on and turned to her. “How does finding this foundation help you make whatever decision you’re trying to make?”
“Maybe it doesn’t. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I told you our podcast does historical true crime. The fans started asking for a modern true crime episode, and Erika got really excited about the idea because it would appeal to a broader audience. A broader audience means more listeners, which means more money.”
“Money’s nice.”
“Yeah, it is.”
He leaned close, so their shoulders bumped. “You sound really unenthusiastic about the money.”
“I like money.” She chuckled. “I like money a lot. But the crimes we cover...yes, the people involved have descendants, but generally the folks who knew them personally have all passed on. But we did a murder from the 1970s and I thought the people who were closest to her were gone. I was wrong. The episode went viral and her best friend and her uncle got dragged through the emotional wringer all over again. But it got so much attention and we have the potential to make alotmore money. Like significant enough to change not only our lives, but our families’, too.”
“I don’t really listen to podcasts, other than a few sports ones when I remember, but between peopletalkingabout podcasts and the documentaries on all the streaming networks, I think true crime is a pretty popular thing. I think having to relive the trauma is just a part of life for the family and friends of the victims these days.”
“But does that make it right?” She sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I can’t answer that question for anybody else, but I have to answer it for myself. And, unfortunately, I have to answer it for Erika, too.”
Rob rubbed gentle circles on her back. “Do you think having to drive over three thousand miles and then spending three months with Dave and Sheila so you can walk out in the woods and find some old rocks in order to think about it is a strong hint?”
Hannah laughed softly, shaking her head. “To be fair, I didn’t know about Dave and Sheila when I made the reservation.”
“Can Erika be on two podcasts? Maybe you can continueImprobable Causesand she can also do another one with current events.”
“Maybe. I know she’s had offers, but she said it would stretch her thin and dilute her name, whatever that means. I think I either have to go along or part ways with her. And without Erika’s writing and conversational timing, I’m just a history nerd giving a lecture about an obscure crime or mystery that happened so long ago, only I and, like, ten other people care about it.”
“I think you’re selling yourself short. But something drove you to come here, and that’s important.”
“Elizabeth was my first episode,” she said.
“Ah. I started with the most recent episode and have been working my way back. Your passion for the story really does come through. I mean, your partner’s entertaining, but you’reinteresting.”
“You’ve listened to it?” She hadn’t really expected him to, but it pleased her that he had.
“Of course I have.” The tips of his ears turned a charming shade of pink. “It started as just a way to hear your voice, but you also have a gift for making your listenercareabout the victim, even though it was so long ago.”
Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away before he could notice them. “I told Elizabeth’s story because she’d been forgotten. Most of our episodes have been tales that would otherwise not get talked about.”
“I can see why current true crime wouldn’t interest you. It’s hard to forget a crime that’s been aDatelineepisode and the subject of multiple podcasts and half a dozen documentaries.”
“I wouldn’t say it doesn’t interest me. But my podcast is where true crime and history intersect, and it was Elizabeth who really brought that together for me—wanting to share her story. And it doesn’t hurt anybody, which I recently found out can really suck when it does.”
“I know it’s a decision only you can make, but can I offer an observation?”
She sat up straight, and the hand that had been rubbing her back settled at her waist. “Of course, and not just because you trekked all the way out here with me.”
“When you talk about historical true crime, you’re very animated. Your face lights up and I can feel your enthusiasm. When you talk about adding more recent crimes to your show, your shoulders drop. Your face pinches a little. You turn your face away.” He gave a little shrug. “For what it’s worth.”
It was worth more than she could say, and since she didn’t have words, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. It was a soft, sweet kiss and he didn’t push for more.
Then she ran her hand over his slightly scruffy jaw. “Thank you for bringing me out here today.”
