Frustration makes me move hastily. I don’t run up the stairs, but I don’t prolong the ordeal either, sneaking up as if there’s someone lying in wait for me like last time.
Less than a minute later, I’m standing in the center of the loft, feeling a little like an idiot and pissed about my arm. I need to get my head in the game. I ate long before I even talked with Liv and should have noticed at some point that I turned the burner the wrong way. With a renewed sense of determination, I head back downstairs to get the few groceries I bought and put them away, so they don’t get ruined like the pan.
CHAPTER 5
Harlyn
My heart starts beating faster when I make the final turn into the industrial drive. If I didn’t have my GPS leading the way, I would have had a hard time locating the commercial area tucked back behind a busy street filled with chain restaurants and stores. It’s several blocks away from the waterfront tourist shops I visited yesterday.
Most of the buildings are single story and made of a drab, reddish brick. The only thing that differentiates them are the company name signs posted out front or directly on the buildings. I pass a few commercial supply shops and a medical building or two before the road curves and a larger office building comes into view. The car speaker informs me my destination is approaching, and I make a slow turn into the landscaped lot.
Parking isn’t an issue. There are only a handful of other cars parked near the entrance, leaving most of the spots empty.Following suit, I find a spot near the group and shut off the engine of my rental.
The clock on the display tells me I’m nearly fifteen minutes early. I let my nerves get the better of me, making me think I needed to leave earlier than I should. Now, all I can do is sit here for ten minutes and overthink. With my hands shaking, I open my phone to check the email for at least the twelfth time to confirm the suite number, then I look at the clock again. I still have nine minutes.
It takes everything in me not to call Livy for moral support. Not for the first time, I wonder why I didn’t just tell her the truth from the beginning, and why I thought this was a better idea, but I know the answer. Liv would have talked me out of leaving home or tried to, and I took what I thought was the easy route. It didn’t take hindsight to know I was wrong, but it was damn helpful in making me regret my choice.
I glance out the window, trying like hell to ignore the brick and glass building ahead of me and focus on the trees. The building next door looks newer, even though it’s about the same size as the one I’m eventually going into. The stone façade is white, with blue tinted glass going all the way up to the third floor. Upon closer inspection, I see a sign at the parking lot entrance indicating it’s a tech college of some sort, which seems pretty strange, considering the location and size.
Movement ahead of me catches my eye, and I look up in time to see a young woman with an ear-length icy blonde bob and micro bangs wave to a guy exiting the building. Neither of them look in my direction. From the web search I’ve done, I know the blonde is Macey, the face of the podcast. I do a double take of the man to see if I recognize him, but the back of his head doesn’t give me much to go on. My mind instantly begins to wonder if he’s connected to my sister’s case in some way, but I dismiss the thought quickly. He’s probably tied to some other unsolved caselike I am. That’s what the podcastUnexplained Casesfocuses on. Every week, they highlight a new unsolved crime, focusing mostly on murder and missing persons and asking for their listeners help to solve the case. They found some success two years ago when they took in a tip that led to the capture of a killer, and their show blew up. There’s been some controversy with them since, like ripping off other podcasters’ cases all the way down to stealing evidence and sources, but when they emailed me about Hayzel, there was no way I wasn’t going to take the chance to get her case more exposure.
One last deep breath later, I exit my car and head toward the building. The cement walkway is cracked and pitted, but I can’t deny that everything else, like the landscaping, is well kempt and neat. As I reach the double glass door, I see an old intercom system on the wall with business names and numbers. Next to 306 is Audio Gripe, the production company ofUnexplained Cases. I’m tempted to just see if the door opens, but I tap the small rectangle next to their number and wait. You’d think they would update and just use a Ring doorbell or something, but who am I to judge?
Seconds later, a somewhat familiar voice comes from the old speaker. “Can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Harlyn. I have an appointment,” I stammer. Now I’m happy they don’t have a camera, because my wince would be embarrassing for anyone to witness.
“Oh, I must have just missed you.” She sounds a little winded or perturbed. “Just pull on the door when you hear the click, okay?”
“Sure,” I agree, feeling only slightly guilty I purposely waited until I thought she was away from the entrance before coming up. I grip the handle, ready to pull it open as soon as I hear the sound. Two heartbeats later, I’m standing in a nondescript lobby with an aging glass and chrome table adorned with two vasesfilled with faded silk flowers—not exactly what I was expecting, but I don’t really know what I was expecting.
“Hey!” Macey waves at me from the top of the wide stairs. Great, now she gets to watch me huff up three flights. I plaster what I hope passes for a cordial smile on my face then return her wave before beginning my trek up. Thankfully she doesn’t loom over me like some crazy PE coach, watching my every move. She actually takes a step back, giving me time to make it up to her.
“Sorry about the stairs. I thought they were a good idea a few years ago. Now I can’t wait to get into the new place.”
I nod my head in agreement, pretending my heart isn’t beating too hard from exertion and nerves. “It’s fine.” I’m grateful I don’t sound as bad as I feel.
“We have this entire floor,” she explains while walking toward a heavy oak door embellished with an Audio Gripes sign in black vinyl. We step inside to another lobby that reminds me of a doctor’s office, but there isn’t a receptionist or even an area for one. It’s just a dated waiting room. There are several older chairs covered in orange fabric that looks like it would make me itch pressed up along the walls, and two flatscreen televisions playing what I guess are video recordings of their shows. I tuck down the back of my hair. The emails never said anything about video. Maybe I would have worn something other than my favorite jeans, a fitted top, and cardigan if I had known it was going to be recorded.
She doesn’t seem to notice my apprehension as she heads straight for another door, one she holds open for me. “Come on in.” She motions for me to go ahead of her into the hall. “Everybody is in the back. We’re just taking a quick break to reset.”
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little taken aback by the way she talks as if we’ve known each other forever, and I should know exactly what to expect. Frankly, I thought her assistantwould greet me, since she was the one I messaged with about the interview. I only know Macey’s face and voice from all the times I’ve listened to the show and seen Macey do ads and interviews.
“This is my first time doing something like this,” I explain, feeling the need to defend myself for some reason.
“I know.” She tilts her head, examining my face closely. “I’m surprised we got to you first.”
I break eye contact, not enjoying the scrutiny, slightly bothered by her words. I get that you have to be a little desensitized to deal with the kind of crap she does day in and day out, but something about her makes me feel… off, like she’s not interested in me or my sister but is only seeing what she can get out of us.
Aren’t you doing the same exact thing?The thought comes unbidden but serves as a stark reminder. I’m here for one reason—to help catch my sister’s killer. Macey’s job is to get people to listen. We’re both using each other.
Being jaded is new for me. I didn’t think about people’s motives before my sister was murdered, but now I find myself always wondering why—why people talk to me, why they look at me, and most importantly, what they want from me.
The door closes with a heavy thud, and she walks ahead of me down a hallway with a few closed doors, perpetuating the ambiance of a doctor’s office. That image fades when we turn a corner and enter a large space that looks like a cross between a boardroom and a breakroom. There are a couple long tables with chairs pushed underneath them, a fridge, and another television, this one is larger and thankfully turned off. A guy just a few inches taller than me wipes his hand on the front of his pants and extends it to me in greeting. “You must be Harlyn. I’m Liam.”
“Hello.” I shake his hand firmly, a lesson I learned from my granddad. Even the subtle reminder of him is enough to makethe ache of his loss feel fresh, but I’m grateful he wasn’t here to witness what happened to Hayzel. His heart never would have been able to take it.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Liam motions toward the simple white fridge.
