Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Cece had the audio timeline stretched across her screen, waveforms stacked neatly like rows of stitching. She nudged the cursor back a few seconds and listened again, head tilted, one earphone pulled slightly back so she could hear other sounds, just in case.
Her voice came through in a calm, steady way. Probably not as perfect as it could be, but it sounded honest. And real. She trimmed a bit of dead air, then stopped and listened from the top.
The intro with Joe’s music behind it faded in exactly where she wanted it to. That was good. Really good. Better than she could have done buying a piece of stock music. She’d given him credit in her outro, too.
Cece smiled and made a note to thank him again. He’d written the theme without fuss, and handed it over like it was no big deal. He was such a good man.
She adjusted the outro next, shortening her final line so it didn’t ramble. Journalism habits died hard. Say what you mean. Don’t waste time.
When the episode ended, Cece sat back and rubbed her eyes. The podcast sounded really good to her. She was happy. She’d still listen to it a few more times and, undoubtedly, tweak it a few more times, but it was close to being as perfect as she could hope for.
As first episodes went, it was something to be proud of.
She was about to get up and get a drink when Peanut hopped into her lap and shoved her head against Cece’s chin, forcing her to back up. She couldn’t even reach her phone, which sat face-up on the desk.
As Cece petted Peanut, she thought about Blaise’s call earlier. It was clear she’d been trying not to get ahead of herself. Cece understood being excited about something like that email. Then she thought about Blaise’s sweet offer to go along on Cece’s next appointment.
Cece appreciated that more than she’d expressed. Having someone there wasn’t so much about dealing with fear. It was more about not having to listen alone. About having a second set of ears when the language was so clinical and emotion made it hard to listen as closely as she should.
She pushed that thought aside and glanced at the legal pad next to her keyboard. At the top was a short To Do list she’d written earlier, most of which she’d accomplished.
Except for the last one, which was to email Maude. She paused there.
Maude had reached out the day before, asking if Cece knew anything about a woman named Darcy Lane. Cece hadn’t. She’d checked her physical notes as well as her mental filing cabinet of Colony comings and goings. Nothing useful. It bothered her more than she’d expected.
She liked being helpful. She liked having answers. She sort of thought of herself as the person who had answers. But not this time.
Peanut had just jumped down when her phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced at the screen. She’d gotten an email. She sat back and opened her inbox.
A new email awaited from Linda, who was Cece’s contact at the Colony’s main office. The subject read, New Resident List.
Cece opened it without much thought. She got these once a month and used them to select people to interview for The Buzz. If possible, she liked to be a few months ahead, banking the interviews so they were done and ready to go.
She read the brief email, which was exactly as she’d expected—a polite note thanking her for continuing to contribute interviews to The Buzz, followed by a list of new arrivals who’d completed their paperwork and were available.
Cece skimmed the names and occupations, looking for any that jumped out at her. There was a retired dentist, a couple from North Carolina who clogged, and a former veterinarian. Then her eyes stopped.
Darcy Lane, moved from Atlanta. Part-time yoga teacher.
Cece stared at that information. She leaned back in her chair and looked at her laptop screen. Joe’s music still sat paused in the editing software, the waveform frozen mid-note.
Maybe she could be the woman with the answers after all.
Cece went back to her phone and scrolled down, checking for details. There weren’t many. No spouse listed. No volunteer interests yet.
She closed the email and sat for a moment, hands folded loosely around her phone.
This wasn’t a coincidence. Not exactly. But it was a pretty good chance at digging into Darcy to get more info. This was the universe creating the kind of opportunity she hadn’t even asked for.
She picked up her phone and opened her messages.
Maude, she typed. I just got the new resident list from the Colony office. Darcy Lane is on it. Moved here from Atlanta. I don’t have more yet, but I can request her for a Buzz interview. Not sure if she’ll say yes, but I have a feeling she will. Why do you want to know about her, if I can ask?
Didn’t take Maude long to answer. Paige ran into her at the fitness center.
Darcy hinted she knew private things about Paige.
Things she shouldn’t have. Not outright, but enough to feel like a warning.
I’ve been digging online, but there’s not a lot there outside of her Atlanta ties.
If you can get her talking, that would help.
Cece read it twice, her protective instincts kicking in. If this woman had an agenda concerning Paige, Cece wasn’t just going to let that slide.
She set the phone down and stared at the desk, at the legal pad with its neat checkmarks, at the paused waveform on her screen.
She was in familiar territory again. There was a story here and it wasn’t obvious. It was something she would have to dig for in a way that didn’t come off as digging. She could do that. She was good at doing that.
She typed back, Okay. That helps. I’ll proceed carefully. I’ll keep it professional and broad. She’s new to the Colony, getting a fresh start, that kind of thing. I’ll let you know what I get.
She sent it, then sat for a moment longer, thinking.
This wasn’t about catching someone out. It never was. It was about letting a person talk long enough to show you who they were. To let them feel like you were friends. Like you were someone they could confide in.
That’s when guards came down and surprises came out.
Cece turned back to her laptop and opened her email. She wrote the way she always did when reaching out to a new subject—polite, straightforward, clear about what she was looking for.
Hello Ms. Lane, My name is Cece Davenport, and I write a regular feature for The Buzz, the Colony’s community newsletter, that introduces new arrivals to the neighborhood.
I saw that you’re a recent arrival from Atlanta, and I wondered if you might be interested in sitting down for a short interview about your move and what drew you to the Colony.
If so, I’d be happy to work around your schedule.
Warm regards, Cece Davenport
She read it once more, checking that it was typo-free. Then she hit Send. The email disappeared from the outbox.
Cece pushed her chair away from the workspace. Peanut hopped up again, this time settling herself neatly onto Cece’s lap as if that spot was her right.
Cece petted her, making Peanut purr.
Whatever Darcy Lane thought about what life at the Colony would be like, Cece suspected she hadn’t counted on being interviewed by someone who was friends with the woman she’d just targeted.
Cece rested her hand on Peanut’s back and stared at the computer screen. She didn’t know yet what Darcy Lane was hiding—but she was going to make a good attempt at finding out.