Page 75 of Silent Shadows

The truth is, nobody’s ever really asked me that before.

Most people stop listening once they hear “paranormal investigator.” And the folks who do seem interested, I don’t trust their intentions. I don’t want us to be made into characters like Grant Ridgefield and his crew of idiots.

But Daisy keeps looking at me like the answer matters.

So I answer with the truth.

“Taylor found us first,” I say. “She was doing off-road recovery work and basically bullied her way into staying after helping us out of a canyon in Oklahoma.”

“Is ‘us’ you and your brother?”

I know she knows Owen exists, but not much else. We’ve had a more distant relationship since our parents died, both of us trying to heal in our own ways. I’d rather not talk about them, and he tries to keep them alive. His way of coping eventually included getting way too involved in an extraterrestrial-related missing-person case. He buried himself so deep into it that when the Air Force called, he was already packing before he hung up. I had always been the lead with the crew, and with him being so withdrawn and focused on investigative work, it was just kind of like he ghosted. I don’t want to go there right now with Daisy, so instead, I nod and move on.

“Yep, Taylor ran into us in Oklahoma. She believes everything. Aliens, spirits, cryptids, weird desert energy. Doesn’t matter.”

“Her weird desert energy is growing on me.”

“She grows on everyone,” I admit. “Like glitter. Or mold.”

Daisy laughs beside me.

“Jax came later,” I continue. “He was filming extreme sports stuff and started following paranormal sightings because he thought it would make good footage.”

“And now?”

“Now he’s probably the best field videographer I’ve ever seen,” I answer honestly. Jax notices things most people miss. Angles. Movement. Tiny environmental shifts. He acts chaotic, but underneath it he’s sharp as hell.

“And Maya?” Daisy asks.

I smile. “Maya’s the reason this operation is operational.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“She found one of our early uploads online and emailed me a twelve-page document correcting our methodology and suggested a few sponsors.”

Daisy bursts out laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.” I grin despite myself. “It was intimidating.”

“And you liked that?” she asks.

“I respected it.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not,” I reply.

“It absolutely is.”

I shake my head, smiling as I look down at the trail.

Then she asks quietly, “And you? I know you mentioned your parents, but are they what’s keeping you here still?”

The question settles heavier than the others.

I step over a fallen branch, buying myself a second.

“They believed we weren’t alone,” I say. “They didn’t have blind belief—they were just open to the possibilities. And Bigfoot was the fun possibility my mom latched onto. When we took that trip to this area I told you about, it was just a year or so before their accident.”