Chapter 15
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
Andi and Duke made it to the venue with two minutes to spare.
She’d tried to call Pam on the way there, but there was no answer. Pam had said earlier that she was supposed to be in a meeting today, so maybe that was why.
Maybe.
Even before she and Duke stepped fully inside the convention center, Andi felt the hum of anticipation vibrating through the venue. Fans milled about the spacious lobby, clutching programs and branded merch bags, their voices rising in an excited buzz that echoed against the sleek glass walls.
Life-sized banners of The Round Table team hung from the rafters—a group of college students took selfies beneath them, squealing when one recognized Duke walking past.
The entire building felt alive and pulsing with energy.
Andi barely had time to take in any of it before Rupert came hurtling toward them from the side hallway like a missile in a plaid designer jacket.
“There you are!” he hissed, somehow both breathless and indignant. “Do you have any idea how close we were to disaster? Two minutes. Two minutes!”
Disaster? Rupert had to be the king of hyperbole.
She forced her tone lighter than she felt. “The good news is that we’re here now.”
Rupert didn’t appear remotely comforted as he narrowed his gaze, already launching into a torrent of instructions as he ushered them toward the backstage corridor.
“No time for explanations. Hair, makeup, microphones, energy drinks—everything is already set. Duke, you’re on the far left.
Andi, you’re center. Please try not to glare at the sponsors. ”
“I can’t promise that,” she muttered.
Backstage buzzed with controlled chaos. Folding tables crowded the space, scattered with makeup kits, water bottles, printed run-of-show schedules, and—of course—rows of neon-bright energy drink cans lined up like obedient little soldiers.
Mariella looked flawless, as usual, as she touched up her lipstick. Simmy was smoothing Anastasia’s hair while Karen hovered nearby with a stack of books. Ranger leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes alert. Matthew’s laptop was already open.
But each of them glanced up from what they were doing as Duke and Andi stepped into the space, waiting to hear what they’d learned.
Even though she didn’t have much time, she wanted to give them a quick update. “The police didn’t bite. The detective claimed Gina left on her own once before.”
Mariella’s brows shot up. “That’s . . . unfortunate.”
“We found evidence at Gina’s apartment,” Duke added. “Evidence that someone could have accessed her window without force. However, it wasn’t definitive.”
Ranger’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“And Emily, Gina’s roommate, isn’t answering her phone,” Andi finished. “Every call goes straight to voicemail.”
Simmy’s expression softened. “Poor girl is probably scared.”
“Places!” Rupert barked, clapping once. “We are on.”
There was no more time.
They lined up at the edge of the stage. Andi took her spot, heart still pounding from the morning’s dead ends and dismissals.
As she stepped forward, her gaze snagged on the tables set across the stage.
In front of every microphone sat a pristine, unopened energy drink.
The electric-blue label practically glowed under the stage lights.
She swallowed a groan.
I cannot wait for this tour to be over.
She never thought she’d say this, but she missed Fairbanks. She missed the cold. The snow. The Northern lights.
When she originally moved there from Texas to go undercover as an ice road trucker, she didn’t think Fairbanks would ever feel like home. But now it did.
The curtain rose.
A thunderous applause crashed over them, loud enough to vibrate through Andi’s ribs. Hundreds of voices, cheers, whistles. The familiar surge of adrenaline kicked in, muscle memory taking over as she smiled and waved, settling into her chair.
She glanced down the line and caught Duke’s eye.
He gave her a barely perceptible nod.
They were ready.
At the end of the platform, the moderator—a polished, petite woman named Rebecca Kline, a well-known investigative reporter from Santa Clara—stepped forward with confident ease.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Rebecca said into the mic, her smile warm but professional. “Please help me welcome the hosts of The Round Table—Mariella Boucher, Matthew Boucher, Ranger Garrett, Simmy Garrett, Duke McAllister, and Andi Slade.”
A wave of applause rolled through the auditorium, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.
“Today, we’re digging into one of Santa Clara’s most persistent unsolved cases—the disappearance of eighteen-year-old Ellie Marston, who vanished after her late shift at the Pine Creek Diner almost twelve years ago,” Rebecca continued.
“There were no suspects. No leads. Not even a confirmed sighting. She was just . . . gone.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Rebecca turned to the group. “I’d love to start by asking—”
Before she could finish, the room went completely dark.
The darkness stretched longer than it should have.
Not long enough for panic—but long enough for Duke’s instincts to crawl fully awake.
Voices rustled through the auditorium. Nervous laughter. The scrape of chairs. Someone near the front called out a joke that didn’t land.
Cell phone lights came on, faintly lighting the space.
Duke stayed still, counting breaths, tracking sound, memorizing where everyone onstage was by the subtle shifts in air and movement.
Then—
The lights snapped back on.
Duke blinked once.
And froze.
At the back of the auditorium, half-hidden by the aisle and a concrete pillar, stood a familiar figure.
Colin Hoffman.
Gina’s ex-boyfriend.
He stood rigid, eyes locked on the stage—on them.
Duke’s jaw tightened. What was he doing here?
Rupert rushed onstage, hands raised, voice amplified into crisis-mode cheer. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience! A brief technical hiccup—absolutely nothing to worry about! Please give it up for our incredible venue staff—”
Duke slid off the stage as quietly as possible, moving along the edge where lighting rigs and curtains swallowed him from view. A security guard glanced his way, distracted by Rupert’s frantic optimism.
Duke stepped out from backstage. He kept his head down and moved fast as he cut down the aisle by the audience.
Colin spotted him, and the man’s eyes widened.
Then he bolted.