Chapter Two
Today
Zoe March leaned over her microphone. She loved the end of a season.
She’d worked for months to lay out a true crime case for her audience.
Now she would get to see how they perceived the evidence she’d uncovered and presented.
“On the first seven episodes of this season of You Won’t Believe This, we’ve conducted our own investigation into the disappearance of Jonelle Collins eleven years ago.
We’ve spoken with her friends and family, none of whom believe that Jonelle simply walked away from her life because she was despondent over her divorce.
She’d built a successful career and devoted her life to her two children.
According to her ex-husband, he and Jonelle had an unusually amicable relationship focused on coparenting.
He doesn’t believe Jonelle would have left her children.
The police, however, found no evidence of foul play and declined to investigate further. ”
She spent a few minutes summing up some of the more interesting details of the case.
“To those of you who’ve listened to all seven episodes, what do you think?
Did Jonelle vanish willingly? Was she the victim of a stranger or serial killer, as her mother believes?
Or is someone who was close to Jonelle lying?
” Zoe sat back and switched her tone from mysterious to inquisitive.
“Now, we want to hear from our listeners. What do you believe?”
Seated next to Zoe, her producer, Wendy Simon, flipped a switch and tapped a piece of paper with a name written on it.
Zoe nodded. “Let’s take caller number one, Patrice from Albany. Hi, Patrice. What do you believe happened to Jonelle Collins?”
An older woman’s voice sounded in Zoe’s headphones. “I think her husband is lying. I don’t know anyone who is best friends with their ex. He killed her for the money.”
“Is there something specific that makes you believe this?” Zoe reinforced her show’s branding by repeating the word believe, a recent suggestion from Wendy. To Zoe, the repetition felt awkward, but she’d give it a try.
“His statements just aren’t believable,” Patrice said.
“Are you married, Patrice?” Zoe asked. Personal connections made the show more interesting. People wanted conflict. They might claim to watch documentaries, but research showed they loved reality TV more.
“I’ve been married to the love of my life for forty-two years,” Patrice answered.
“Here’s the thing. Jonelle and Travis were married for twelve years.
Marriages are built on emotion, and it’s rare that both spouses agree that they want to dissolve a long-term relationship.
One person always gets their feelings hurt.
If my husband ever left me, I’d be devastated. ”
“So, your theory is based on your personal experience with a good marriage?”
“Yes,” Patrice said. “Jonelle’s husband moved on to another woman awfully fast. I think he killed her so he wouldn’t have to pay alimony or child support. Plus, he eventually collected on her life insurance. Win-win for him.”
“Do you think both parties can ever agree that their marriage isn’t working?” Zoe asked.
“I guess it’s possible, but I’ve never seen it.”
“You’ve raised some interesting points, Patrice. Thanks for calling in.” Zoe ended the call. “Does anyone else agree with Patrice?”
Wendy wrote another name.
Zoe continued. “Greg from Glens Falls, tell us what you believe.”
A man answered, “I agree with Patrice. When couples split up, one of them is always resentful. But I think Jonelle was the one who cheated, and that’s why Travis killed her.”
“Why do you think that?” Zoe asked.
“First off, he refused your request for an interview, but he did a bunch of other interviews. Why not talk to you? I think he was only willing to discuss preapproved, softball topics. He didn’t want to face someone who would ask hard questions. He didn’t want to be challenged.”
Zoe was flattered. She’d been a reporter in the past, back when hard-copy newspapers were delivered to doorsteps every morning—before generating clicks became more important than reporting the truth.
She liked to think she brought an element of hard-hitting journalism to her true crime podcast, but sometimes she felt like her show was devolving into clickbait territory.
People wanted gossip. They reveled in scandals.
There had to be a way to grow her audience without resorting to sensationalism. “So you think he was jealous?”
“Oh, yeah. Plus, I know if my wife cheated on me, broke up our family, and I had to pay alimony because of it, I’d be pissed.
” And there it was: the personal connection.
No one existed in an emotional vacuum. It was unusual that human beings could be completely objective.
Everyone carried their own insecurities based on their life history.
Rare was the individual who could truly put themselves into another person’s perspective.
Callers’ opinions on the cases were almost always a reflection of their own experiences.
Zoe knew this because her own personal situation was fucked. But she found it so much easier to critique other people than deal with her own life issues.
She let a few seconds of silence punctuate Greg’s statement. “Are you married, Greg?”
“Yeah.” His answer was too clipped.
“And you love your wife?” she asked.
“Of course I love my wife.” Anger resonated in his words, but then his tone softened. “And she loves me.” She heard the doubt behind the conviction.
Zoe lowered her voice. “And you’d naturally feel hurt, angry, and betrayed if she cheated on you.”
“Naturally.”
“But you’d never kill her because of it, would you?”
“Of course not! I never said I would!”
“But you said you think Jonelle’s husband killed her because he was jealous over an affair and angry that she cheated, and he might have to pay alimony.
Yet we have no proof Jonelle was cheating.
In fact, it was her husband who moved on to another woman.
” Zoe almost felt guilty for what she would say next.
Then again, Greg was putting out nasty, suspicious undercurrents. “Is your wife cheating on you, Greg?”
Greg snapped. “Fuck you!” The line went dead.
Zoe spoke to her listeners. “I guess Greg doesn’t want to answer difficult questions either.”
Wendy gave her a thumbs-up and an excited grin.
She loved the reality-show vibe, but the exchange left a sour taste in Zoe’s mouth.
How would listeners view her discussion with Greg?
She didn’t like provoking callers during live shows.
When she taped episodes ahead, she could listen to her words, edit mistakes, ensure she said exactly what she meant.
Live shows brought additional stress in permanency.
Once something was out there in the digital void, there was no getting it back.
Yet she had to admit Wendy made some good suggestions.
This season of the podcast was the most successful yet.
Listener analytics showed increases in subscribers and an improvement in engagement.
People were tuning in, and the show was holding their attention.
The number of callers had doubled compared to last season.
Zoe glanced at the recording time. She liked to keep each episode to sixty minutes or less. Over the past ten years, attention spans had contracted like Shrinky Dinks in the oven. “We can take one more caller.” She still had to do the season wrap-up and the teaser for her upcoming special.
Wendy tapped another name handwritten on her notepad.
Zoe said, “Abel from Auburn, you’re on the air.”
“Hi, Zoe. Longtime listener. First-time caller.”
His voice lifted goose bumps on Zoe’s arms. He wasn’t exactly whispering, but his tone was soft, almost suggestive. Something about it was familiar, as if her subconscious recognized him. Was Abel someone she knew?
She swallowed. “What do you believe, Abel?”
Abel continued to speak in his strange whisper. “I think someone killed Jonelle and hid the body to make it appear as if she’d left. Maybe her remains will be pulled out of a lake someday.”
The hairs on the back of Zoe’s neck rose. She shook off the sense of foreboding. “What makes you believe this, Abel?”
“Because betrayal is human nature, isn’t it?” he asked. “People sin, and they’ve done so since biblical times.”
“Who do you think betrayed Jonelle?”
“Someone close to her. After all, murder is a most personal act.” His whisper took on a mocking tone. “You should know that better than anyone.”
She didn’t want to ask the natural follow-up question: How so?
There was no way she’d take the conversation in an even more personal direction.
She wanted to hang up and accept another call.
But her listeners would want her to respect her caller.
Plus, Wendy was rolling her hand, her expression encouraging.
Zoe decided to assume he meant she should know because of her podcast.
Zoe redirected the discussion back to the caller. “Have you been betrayed, Abel?”
“In the worst way.”
“By someone close to you?” Zoe’s voice cracked.
“If it isn’t someone close to you, someone you trust, then it wouldn’t be a betrayal, would it? A stranger can’t betray you.” Abel’s voice sank into a true whisper. “Everyone has their Cain.”
Suddenly chilled, Zoe rubbed her biceps. The caller’s voice definitely sounded familiar in some way she couldn’t pinpoint. She didn’t know anyone called Abel. The name was distinct. She wouldn’t forget meeting an Abel.
Maybe that isn’t his real name.
“Was it your brother?” Zoe’s belly knotted as she drew on the biblical reference. Inexplicable tension filled the sound booth.
“Yes, and no.” Was he toying with her?
“Can you explain?” This was her show. She was in charge. Abel was the one in the hot seat, so to speak. Yet it did not feel that way.
“I don’t have to. You already know.”
Her mouth went dry. Sweat broke out under her arms.
No! It couldn’t be.
Zoe ended the call abruptly, smacking the button like she was swatting a spider. She stared at the microphone, her heartbeat accelerating in her chest as if every beat were a footstep and she were running away.
Wendy mouthed, “What the fuck?”
Zoe ignored her.
But Wendy wasn’t so easily put off. She nudged Zoe with an elbow and motioned for her to keep going. She mouthed, “We’re live.”
Shaking, Zoe glanced at her notes and wiped her damp palms on her thighs.
She could barely think. Thankfully, she’d closed her show dozens of times.
Her subconscious kicked in. Yet she was incapable of slowing her words.
They rushed from her mouth. “And that’s all the time we have this week.
I hope you enjoyed our investigation into the murder of Jonelle Collins.
Join us next week for the first part of our exclusive special interview with true crime writer Olivia Cruz, who was the victim of a bizarre and horrific kidnapping three years ago, as Olivia talks for the first time about her terrifying ordeal.
Also, follow us on social media and look for our announcement on the case we’re delving into for next season.
This is Zoe March, signing off on You Won’t Believe This. ”
Wendy ended the live recording. “What the fuck was that, Zoe?”
“I don’t know. He freaked me out.” She pressed a hand to the base of her throat, where anxiety threatened to choke her.
“He was creepy. Which is exactly why you should have kept him going for a few more minutes. The tension he brought to the show was incredible. You could have milked that. Listeners were probably holding their breath.”
“Maybe.” But nausea flattened Zoe like a steamroller.
The air felt stifling, and the small sound booth seemed to shrink.
She needed to change the conversation. She needed a distraction.
“Let’s finish prepping for tomorrow’s interview.
” She bolted for the door, as if Abel had physically been in the room.
“OK.”
Zoe went into her office. Wendy followed. They spent the next two hours reviewing and editing the list of questions. But Zoe couldn’t get Abel out of her mind. She could still hear his voice, crawling through her like an earworm, as if he were stalking her thoughts.
“Make sure you press her on the specifics. Listeners want the dirty details.”
Zoe hated that saying. “We’re not a tabloid.”
“But we need to generate rapt attention, which leads to subscribers, which lead to sponsors.”
“We do. Olivia’s story will do that without us reducing ourselves to paparazzi.” Zoe would glean what she could from her guest—who was also a friend—while being respectful and professional. The interview would be hard enough on Olivia without Zoe making it worse.
“I think you’re overestimating the attention span of the general public. They like a juicy scandal more than the facts.” Wendy wasn’t as concerned with respecting guests—or rooting out the truth. She wanted to monetize everything.
“I appreciate the need to be profitable, believe me,” Zoe said. “But I won’t choose money over integrity.”
Her podcast commenter whispered in her imagination.
You already know.
She couldn’t escape Abel’s words.
“I think we’re done,” Zoe said. She had to get out of that room. Air. She needed air.
“OK,” Wendy agreed. “Every word doesn’t have to be perfect on the first take. The interview isn’t live. We can edit.”
Zoe’s phone vibrated on the desktop. Dylan’s picture flashed. Zoe sent the call to voicemail.
“You don’t want to get that?” Wendy raised a brow.
“I’ll call him on the way home.”
After casting her a disapproving glance, Wendy headed to her own office.
Zoe texted Olivia to meet her a little early, so they could discuss the questions without her producer’s input.
Then Zoe stood, collecting her purse, laptop, and notes, then shoved everything into her backpack.
She slung the bag over one shoulder and rounded her desk toward the door.
Her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced at the screen. Unknown number.
Probably spam.
But her fingers trembled as they hovered over the messages app. She took a shaky breath and tapped the screen. Every organ in her body went cold as ice. Her knees buckled. She slapped a palm on her desktop to steady herself.
No.
“Hold on,” Wendy called. “I’ll walk out with you.”
But Zoe could only stare at the message on her phone screen as fear wrapped around her chest, coiling, tightening until she could barely draw a breath.