“She has a brain injury and a broken back, honey. All we can do now is love her, wait, and pray.”
As disbelief transformed into understanding, Sydney burst into tears. As Jordan reached out to hug her again, her arms fell limp by her sides, and she stumbled away to her room.
“I love you,” he said to her back.
Amber reassured him that he’d handled it the best he could.
Jordan tried to think of a worse day in his career but couldn’t. Five people dead. Two rapidly spreading wildfires. Mile-long backups on Highway 41, which was still restricted to a single lane while the wrecker crew tried to safely remove the jackknifed semi from an active firefighting scene.
And, of course, one escaped fugitive—the most notable escapee Madera County had ever seen.
After Cara Campbell had thrown herself into the water, he chased her for as long as he could, but the current carried her faster than he could follow. She disappeared almost immediately into the frothing white rapids, resurfacing for only a second before she was swept out of sight. The glimpse of her face in thecold, white light of his headlamp had been so brief he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t imagined it.
The morning’s search would be a body recovery. With the dogs, it wouldn’t take too long.
Amber glanced up. “Have you heard of Dylan Danvers?”
“No. Should I?” He forked and sawed another bite of lasagna, telling himself to finish the whole thing. He needed calories.
“He’s the son of a model and some big football player.”
“Nico Danvers?”
She nodded. “Dylan’s a total nepo baby. He didn’t inherit his dad’s athletic talent, so he did some acting, but his career didn’t really take off. Then there was a cooking show, which got canceled, so he tried being an influencer. Now he’s a true-crime podcaster.”
“Does he make a living at it?”
“I’m not sure he has to. But his season on Cara Campbell totally blew up. I guess it was the perfect combination, with a celebrity covering a celebrity murderer.”
“When I was a kid, celebrities were people who actually accomplished something.”
Amber chuckled, reached across the breakfast bar, and patted him on the forearm. “Don’t forget to take your meds, grampaw. Other podcasts covered the trial, too, but Danvers seems convinced she’s actually innocent.”
“And you’re telling me this because . . . ?”
“He just released a short episode, really an update. I didn’t listen, but according to this summary, he wants his ‘crime fam’ to send clues and help find her.”
“Just what I need,” said Jordan, chewing. “And people listen to this guy?”
“It’s a top-ten podcast on Spotify. All the true-crime yahoos are going to be glued to their couches, studying each other’s TikToks and trying to decide whether you’re merely a bumblingincompetent or actually a sinister villain in league with a shadowy cabal of lizard people who run the US government from the basement of a Chuck E. Cheese.”
“How do we know they’re not lizard people themselves?”
“That’s exactly what a lizard person would say. I’m just waiting for someone to say the whole accident was staged by paid actors in order to distract the public’s attention.”
“From what?”
Amber shrugged. “Changes weekly.”
Jordan gave up on the lasagna and shoveled the rest into the garbage disposal. He went around the breakfast bar and hugged her from behind, resting his cheek on the top of her head and inhaling deeply. She’d been prickly about being touched lately, frustrated with her weight, but he had never cared, only loved her softness and warmth and the way she smelled.
She reached up and awkwardly squeezed back. “Is there any chance Cara Campbell survived?”
“I think the couch detectives are wasting their time. But I’m going to find her, either way.”
Amber was quiet for a moment. “That’s sad. I saw this Instagram story earlier from Cara’s best friend, maybe her only remaining friend, Stephanie van der Lind. She’s a realtor who got famous by appearing onSelling to the Stars—during Cara’s trial.”
“Let me guess: she’s using the escape to market her next open house?”
