Michele’s shoulders sag, and she grabs my hand. “Thank God. Macey would have killed me. It will be very tasteful, I promise,” she adds hastily, as if that was her true concern, but now I know she was worried about her own skin. After a brief squeeze of my fingers, she releases my hand and invites me to have a seat in one of the chairs with a wave of her arm.
“Sorry that came as a surprise for you,” is the first thing Michele says after joining me to sit at the table.
“I suppose I should have done a better job of reading the fine print.” I try to make light of the uncomfortable situation with a placating smile.
“No disrespect to you—I will make sure to be clearer in the future—but you really should readallthe fine print.” Her eyes widen for emphasis. “There are a lot of other shows and hosts out there who will exploit you if you aren’t careful.”
I nod in agreement, but my mind goes back to the same thought. We’re all using each other for one reason or another.
“Alright, let’s get started with how things will go today,” she chirps, swiftly changing her demeanor and the subject. “Once we get inside the studio, they will already be set up to begin recording. Macey may or may not go through a quick introduction and recap of your sister’s case. Are you okay with hearing those details? Because we can edit that in if we need to at a later date.” Her eyes are locked on mine, and surprisingly, I don’t feel like she would frown on me for telling her I don’t want to hear it.
“No, I mean, yeah. I’m okay listening to a recap.”
“Okay. If, at any point, it gets to be too much, just let her know you need a break. No judgment. We understand this is hard.”
She’s saying all the right things, but deep down, I know there is no way she could understand how I feel about anything. I just nod again. Listening to her talk about what happened to Hayzel can’t be any worse than finding my sister’s body and hearing every detail of her life picked apart on the news for months.
“I know I asked in our emails, but it’s worth asking again. Is there anything you don’t want to talk about?”
I scan my thoughts, but it’s hard to concentrate. Every time I try to focus on anything that isn’t happening in this exact moment, the thoughts seem to slip through my fingers like water.
“I don’t think so, but I’ll let her know if something comes up.”
Michele flattens her lips into a serious expression and nods. “Good. I want you to remember, you are in control here.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand again. I want to pull back, even though the show of compassion feels genuine. I get why she’s the one warming me up instead of Macey, who seems much more detached. I even understand why the host needs to be unemotional, but she comes off as a little cold to me.
“Thanks,” I tell Michele and finally pull my hand from hers, placing it on my lap under the table.
“Do you have any questions for me, or about how anything will work?”
“No, I really did read through the material you provided,” I assure her.
“I believe you.” She smiles softly before pushing up from the table. “They should be about ready for us.”
I walk with her down the hallway as a tangle of worms start flipping around in my stomach. “That agent,” I start. Michele turns her head to look at me expectantly, and it isn’t lost on me that I just denied her query about questions, yet now I have one. “Is he working on my sister’s case?”
She pulls her chin back and shakes her head in denial. “Oh no. Think of him more as an expert in the field. We’ve put in several requests to the FBI, and this is the first time we’ve gotten a yes. I think Macey is planning on trying to get as much out of him as she can. He’s here specifically for another case, but he agreed to sit in on a few others we’re working on while he’s in town.” Her secret smile makes me think Michele believes the other woman is planning on picking more than just the agent’s brain about open cases.
“I’ll be in the audio room with a few of our tech guys. Try to forget about the mics and cameras,” she reminds me when we reach a large double door.
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?” I blurt.
“Just tell her you need a break. We aren’t on anyone’s timetable besides yours,” she encourages with a nod.
“Okay.” I rub my palms down the front of my jeans and face the door as Michele lifts her hand, raps softly on the wood, then turns the knob and pushes it open. The air in my lungs seems to escape all at once, leaving me feeling slightly lightheaded and a little woozy. I fight the urge to run back down the hall and out ofthe office, and instead, I slide one foot forward into the carpeted room.
The door clicks closed behind me, and I drag in a shaky breath while taking in the shadowy space in front of me. Am I really ready for this?
CHAPTER 6
Boone
Isit up straighter as soon as I hear the soft knock on the door. It’s not often that I’m surprised, but seeing Harlyn Wade for the first time gave me a hell of a shock. I’d reviewed the notes on her sister’s case last night after Michele provided me with what her team had. I’d even gone a little deeper to see what I could find through my channels, but nothing prepared me for my reaction to her.
The resemblance to her sister can’t be ignored, though it would have been easy to dismiss had I not seen so many photos of Hayzel while she was alive and well. It seems they shared the same heart-shaped face and striking light eyes, but the differences between them are just as obvious, or at the very least they are now. The photos of Hayzel showed a thin young woman with chestnut-colored hair and an easy smile. Harlyn’s look is edgier, and most of her hair is nearly black, yet the top left quarter is as white as snow. When she turned to give Michele a small wave, I saw some matching light locks peeking out fromunderneath her softly curled dark hair at the nape of her neck. The moment my gaze starts to drop to take in her curvy figure, I avert my eyes to the wall beside her. I need to focus on the reason we’re both here, but that has nothing to do with why I can’t take my eyes off her.
The room is quiet enough that I hear her breathy exhale after the door closes. The fingers of her left hand twitch, drawing my attention. I note the rings stacked on her fingers, especially the delicate-looking band with a large stone that seems to indicate she’s married on her ring finger, though she’s here alone for the interview.
“Hey, Harlyn, please have a seat.” Macey invites her over to the intimate living room like setting in the middle of the expansive space. It reminds me of something from a TV show—overly exaggerated. There are layered rugs in dark, muted colors under our feet and scarf-covered lamps stationed around the seating area, leaving the rest of the room rather dark and moody beyond the dim light. If I hadn’t visited the sound room yesterday after my initial interview, I might not have known there was a small group of production members behind a thin pane of glass and several cameras aimed directly at us just out of sight.
