“Water is fine, if you have it.” I’m suddenly very thirsty, and my mouth feels like it’s coated in sandpaper.
“Sure do.” As he leans over to hand me a bottle of water he retrieved from the fridge, two more people emerge from another hall. A petite redhead with the curves of a pin-up is guiding a man who looks comically large behind her. I avert my gaze quickly so I don’t get caught staring, but he is definitely double take worthy. I’m a sucker for a big man—not the kind of guy who looks like he spends his life in the gym, but the kind of man who looks like he wouldn’t have any problem hefting me around when the time is right. The thought feels more foreign than any other I’ve had today. I haven’t thought of a man’s large build being attractive in a long time. Now when I see a big man, I tend to think about how easy it would be for him to overpower me, and not in a good way.
I open my water and take a sip as they walk toward us. “Harlyn, this is my assistant, Michele. She’s the person you’ve been conversing with.” Macey smiles at me as the pretty as a picture Michele does a cute little head tilt and wave toward me.
I return her smile. “Nice to meet you.”
“This is Special Agent Landry from the FBI. He’s a criminal profiler we have the honor of working with this week. Special Agent Landry, this is Harlyn Wade. Her twin sister’s murder is the focus of today’s show.”
My gut twists at the causal mention of my sister’s death during the introduction. A small part of me wonders if that is all I will ever be—the twin of a dead girl. “Hi.” My tone comes off a little clipped when I extend my hand toward the agent.
“Nice to meet you,Harlyn.” The slight emphasis he puts on my name while gripping my hand for a heartbeat feels intentional, as if he’s acknowledging me more than why I’m here, or I could just be projecting.
I steal a quick peek at his features, noting his cornflower blue eyes and light hair. It’s not hard to imagine him with a weapon, but the first thing that comes to mind isn’t a gun, it’s a war hammer, proving my affection for old superhero movies is still alive, even if it’s been a while since I watched one.
“Do you need anything else before we get started?” Liam chimes in merrily.
“Bathroom?” Macey adds.
I almost say I’m fine, but I think I’d rather try now than interrupt in a half hour when the water I just downed half of demands my attention. “Maybe I should.”
“Great, we can always take a break, but I find it can disrupt the flow. It’s right down the hall.” Macey points to the hall Michele and Special Agent Landry came from.
“Pardon me.” I duck my head and angle through the group to disappear down the hall. The back of my neck tingles, as if I can feel their eyes on me, but I ignore the unpleasant feeling pushing me to move fast and keep my pace steady.
After using the bathroom and washing my hands, I look at myself in the mirror over the single commercial sink. I thought there would be some evidence of my nerves on my face, at least some blotchiness over my cheeks, but the only sign I’m uncomfortable is my eyes. They look too wide and a little wild. I practice some deep breaths, hoping I can get through this without crying or, at the very least, not weeping, but I’m not very confident I’ll be successful. It’s so very vain of me, but part of me wishes Special Agent Landry wasn’t here, even when I know what a great resource he is.
After thirty seconds of hopelessly staring at myself, I finally toss the paper towels I was wringing in my hands in the trash and head out to meet the others. The quiet drone of conversation all but dies when I emerge from the hall. I might be overthinking it, but it feels like they were talking about me.
“All set?” Liam asks with just enough enthusiasm to confirm my suspicions.
“Yeah,” I agree, wishing I would have done a better check of my clothes before leaving the bathroom. I feel like I have toilet paper stuck to my shoe or something.
“Great. Michele will go over a few things with you while we set up to record. Special Agent Landry, you can come with us and get comfortable since you already know the drill,” Macey announces. I’m a little more than relieved when the three of them walk back toward the hallway.
Michele moves in a little closer. Her expression is soft—not really a smile, but still kind. “Don’t be nervous,” she urges, proving I’m not very good at hiding my emotions.
“If only it were that easy,” I mutter softly.
“I know it’s easy for me to say, but you’ll see soon. Macey is just going to ask you some questions, so we can help give you and your sister a voice.”
She makes it sounds simple, but nothing about this is simple. Instead of telling her something she could never understand, I ask a question that’s been on my mind since entering the office. “Do they record the shows?”
Her eyebrows lift in what I can only assume is surprise. “Yeah, everything in the studio is recorded. The consent form you signed went over all that.”
“I just thought that was for audio. I didn’t know it was video too.”
Michele scrunches up her nose, and lines furrow her brow. “Are you wanting to back out? Macey already prerecorded a lotof the case details.” Her voice is soft, as if she doesn’t want to be overheard. When she darts her eyes toward the hall where the others disappeared, I’m even more certain.
“I’ve never seen the shows posted on social media or anything…” The skepticism is clear in my tone. I would have watched them if they were available, not just to prepare for this, but because true crime has dominated my life for over a year.
“TheUnexplained Caseschannel is currently only for our subscribers.”
“Oh.” That makes me feel better for some reason. A lot less people will be looking at me.
“Our wide launch is next month,” Michele finishes. All the relief I felt evaporates with her revelation. “Are you backing out?” she whispers hesitantly.
I take a deep breath then reply, “No.”
