So I said yes.
They asked all the predictable questions: “What motivates you?” “What’s it like to be a woman in true crime media?” “Do you ever feel unsafe?”
I told them the truth: “I feel like if I stop, she dies again.” In my heart, I knew that my beautiful twin was gone for good. There was a hole inside me that would forever be empty.
That quote ended up everywhere.
The followers doubled. The emails tripled. People sent me tips, rumors, and half-truths. Sometimes, they sent me lies, too. I learned to tell the difference, mostly.
But through all the interviews and the increasing noise, Jane’s case remained cold. No remains. No trace. After that, the podcast was no longer just about Jane. It became about every woman who disappeared and was written off as “unstable,” “impulsive,” or a “runaway.” The missing girls whose families were told to move on.
Sometimes, the messages I received made me cry. Some nights, they made me terrified. All of them kept me going. These women who were missing weren’t going to disappear into the dark.
I built my own small crime squad that worked behind the scenes and helped me with my investigations. They werethe ones who cut through the red tape and accessed places others couldn’t.
We skipped cases where the women didn’t actually want to be found because, occasionally, the cops got it right. There were women who just disappeared because they wanted to get away from an abusive situation.
There were times when cases came together, and cases were closed.
Those were the nights I’d pour a drink and whisper a quiet thank-you into the dark.
I no longer believed in closure for me. That was long gone. Jane’s case would always be a question mark. Now I knew that the hurt would never go away.
CHAPTER 2
Kipp
Present
The tourist had been talking to herself for twenty minutes. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like. She stood by the window of her car, some kind of recorder in her hand, words coming in waves — low, animated, then quiet again, like she was practicing something important. Whatever she was saying seemed to capture every part of her as she spoke, one hand moving animatedly as she narrated into her phone.
Wildwood Meadows saw its fair share of outsiders: hikers, birders, people chasing their small-town dreams, but this one didn’t fit the mold. It was hard to pin down the exact reason why; it was a gut feeling that told me to pay attention.
She was damn pretty, too. Don’t get me wrong. I saw pretty tourists all the time. Fucked plenty of them when Iwas interested in picking one up over in the nearby town of King Creek. They were my specialty. Attachments weren’t my thing.
But this woman was gorgeous, all soft curves, sun-kissed legs, cutoff shorts, and boots that looked properly broken in. When she stretched, reaching her arms overhead as if she’d been sitting too long, the move caught me off guard as her tits curved against her tank top, stretching against it in a way that made me wish for obscene things.
I gave Fish a side-eye. “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered. “Don’t judge me.” When the mood struck, most of my hookups happened over in one of the towns close by. Tourists who knew the score and were looking for something to pass the time. Complications weren’t my thing.
The cattle dog bumped my leg in solidarity. Fish had a moral compass about as crooked as mine when it came to the fairer sex. He was a lover of attention for anyone who would pet him. Not that I could blame him.
When she walked toward the grocery store, I almost looked away — almost. Then she stopped in front of the bulletin board and went still. My sister Sage’s bright yellow flyer forHolt Cabins – Available Now!fluttered right at her eye level.
My siblings had plastered those damn things all over town, swearing I needed to “get out there” and “start renting already.” They didn’t understand my reluctance or that small pit in my stomach that yawned when Ithought about taking the next step. I’d built them for the express purpose of renting them out. There were big dreams that went along with it. Sage had really helped me with the website build she’d done, and everything was ready … it was just hard to explain to my siblings that I was worried people might not like them or the concept. It shouldn’t matter what strangers thought.
Still, I found myself watching her read it. The tilt of her head. The way her fingers traced the tear-off tabs, but didn’t take one yet. She paused over a few of the other flyers, rocking back and forth on her heels as she looked at them. I could see her stopping on one in particular and putting her fingers to it. She almost looked sad.
Fish whined softly. “Fine. Let’s go say hello. Maybe you’ll get your wish, and she’ll pet you.” Maybe I would, too. It had been a very long dry spell for me lately, and the whole hook-up shtick was getting really old, so I’d kept to myself this past year. Seeing my brother East and his fiancée together sparked a new interest in me in trying again in the dating game.
My boots scuffed on gravel as I crossed the lot, trying to be as casual as I could. Keeping my hands in my pockets so I didn’t seem threatening, I cleared my throat. “Looking for a place to stay?”
Her hand moved to her chest in surprise, then dropped when she saw me. Her eyes were a soft brown, nearly golden like the color of honey, with green specks around the edges, framed by thick lashes that fluttered slightlyas she took me in from head to toe. Damn, she looked even prettier up close. There was nothing artificial about this woman; she was completely natural. I didn’t even think she was wearing any makeup, and it was a huge turn-on.
“Maybe,” she said, something guarded sliding over her eyes that I totally approved of. “Maybe not.”Then her gaze flicked to Fish, who was sitting politely at my heels, tail sweeping slowly. “Nice dog. Can I?”
“He’d be offended if you didn’t. It was the only reason we came over here. He couldn’t help himself.” That was a lie, but I gave her a slow smile anyway, like I could read my dog’s mind.
“Of course.” She gave me a nod as if she believed one word of the shit I was shoveling.
