7. Kennedy
Kennedy
“Holy shit, Ken. Holy shit. ”
Freya was pacing the length of my living room like a metronome gone haywire, one hand raking through her curls. She stopped mid-step and looked at me, wide-eyed. “This is insane. Seriously.”
I nodded. The numbness I’d felt when I first called her over was starting to fade, leaving adrenaline and cold clarity in its place. “Beyond insane,” I muttered.
“Do you think the ears are actually real?”
I hesitated. “They looked real. But I don’t know. The detective said the results might take a while.”
Freya raised a brow. “They can’t tell just by looking at them?”
“No, apparently there’s hyper-realistic fake body parts out there these days,” I said. “On prank websites, or whatever.”
“Even if it is a prank, that’s so fucked up. Like, who the hell does that?”
“Trolls, I guess. Like we talked about earlier.”
“True. There are some real assholes out there,” she said with a grimace. “What about the letter? Did you have to hand it over to the cops?”
“Yeah, so they can analyze it. But I remember exactly what it said.”
I recounted the text to her word for word, including the cryptic riddle that had seared itself into my memory like a brand.
“Sounds like they want you to go looking for something,” Freya said, head slowly shaking. “But what, exactly?”
“No clue,” I replied, shrugging. “The letter made it sound like it was for me specifically, so I guess whatever it is must be somehow relevant to me. But… I really have no idea what it could possibly be.”
A beat of silence passed. Then Freya tilted her head. “Do you think this might be happening because of the podcast?”
“I was wondering the same thing. But I’m not sure.”
“It would kind of make sense, right? I mean, if the ears are fake, maybe it’s some psycho trying to get views on their YouTube channel.
Like… you solve the riddle, go into the woods to find the spot, confetti explodes in your face, and the guy posts it with some clickbait title like: We Pranked a Famous True Crime Podcaster! ”
“Yeah. Maybe. But I’d hardly call myself famous, and this seems pretty elaborate just for a dumb YouTube prank. I mean, tracking me down at my stepbrother’s house and leaving a letter on my car…” I paused for a beat, shaking my head. “It’s not just creepy. It’s also a lot of effort.”
“That’s true.”
I shrugged. “Either way, I’m not heading into the woods to chase down clues. The cops are on it.”
Freya let out a long, heavy sigh and raked her hand through her hair again. Then she finally sat down beside me. “If this freak actually did this shit because of the podcast, then it could happen again, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, and it could happen to you, too,” I said grimly.
“I guess so. But so far it’s only happened to you. So… I don’t know. Maybe we should pull the plug,” she said. “Your safety isn’t worth feeding some crazy asshole’s obsession.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Pull the plug on the podcast, you mean?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’ve only recorded the first few episodes, and we still haven’t signed that Konnekt contract yet.
So we don’t have to record the next episodes.
We can just turn down the sponsorship, cancel the interviews we booked, and put a note on the site saying the show isn’t continuing for personal reasons. ”
“Well, um… before we decide to scrap the whole thing, there’s something else I should tell you,” I said.
I filled her in on the offer that Malachi Sieger presented to me at the station earlier, and her expression changed with every word.
“Oh my god!” she breathed, springing to her feet again. “Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. The cops want to work with us. Sort of, anyway.”
“And we’d really get access to the case files? And the riddles?”
“Limited access, yeah. And only two of the riddles. But that’s still incredible, right?”
“Yes! It’s huge! Like… potentially blow-up-the-podcast huge,” she said. “We’d get so many more listeners, and that means more eyes on the case. More chances someone comes forward with a real tip or a recollection that leads to something useful. Then we could actually solve this thing.”
“I thought the exact same thing. But it means we’d have to continue the show. Not cancel it over…” I paused, waving a hand in the air. “Over something that could turn out to be a nasty prank.”
“Honestly, it’s up to you,” Freya said, brows rising. “I mean, obviously I’d love to solve the Carver mystery and get super famous at the same time, because who the hell wouldn’t want that? But like I said a minute ago, your safety comes before everything else.”
I took a long, deep breath. “I think we should keep going.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. “It just feels right for us to keep working on this,” I said. “I don’t know how to explain it, but… I keep getting this feeling that we’re really onto something here. That we can actually solve this thing if we see it through.”
“So then we keep going.” A small smile tugged at the corner of Freya’s mouth, and she held out a pinkie. “Ride or die?”
“Ride or die,” I echoed, hooking my finger around hers.
A knock thudded from the front door. Freya and I both froze.
“Are you expecting anyone?” she asked.
I shook my head slowly. “No, but there’s those cops parked outside, remember? Maybe one of them needs something.”
“I’ll check.”
She stood and tiptoed to the window, peeling back the edge of the curtain just enough to peek out. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “This guy is hot as fuck. ”
I rose to my feet, arching an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know. He’s not wearing a uniform. But he’s holding a badge, so it could be that detective, right?”
I was already crossing the room. When I opened the door, Malachi Sieger was standing there, dressed down in jeans and a dark gray shirt but still carrying that distinct air of authority. “Hi, Kennedy,” he said. “Can I come in for a chat?”
“Uh… sure.”
“Sorry to drop in unannounced, by the way. I know it’s very late.”
“It’s fine. I was actually just telling Freya about your offer,” I said as I stepped back to let him in.
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there for a second, gaze flicking between Freya and me like he wasn’t sure how to begin. Then he finally stepped inside.
“So… what’s going on?” I asked, voice tight with tension. “Is everything okay?”
“The analysis came back sooner than expected,” he replied. “I wanted to tell you right away.”
“Tell me what?” I asked in a small voice.
“The ears are real.”
Freya let out a tiny gasp behind me.
I stared at Malachi, heart hammering. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes. The lab confirmed it.”
“Holy shit.” Freya sank onto the sofa, one hand rubbing her temples. “I really thought it would turn out to be a sick prank.”
“Unfortunately not,” Malachi replied, his voice tight. He looked back at me, something darker flickering in his gaze. “Also… there’s something else you really need to know.”