Chapter 31
CHAPTER
THIRTY-ONE
The city blurred past the windshield as Duke drove them back to the hotel, late-afternoon sun slanting low and gold between buildings. With meeting the real Pam, visiting the law firm, and spending hours at the police station, most of the day was gone.
Tomorrow, they were supposed to leave San Francisco.
That realization sat heavy in Andi’s chest.
LA was next. Obligations stacked tight. Contracts and venues and sponsors who didn’t care about missing women or grainy security footage.
She hated it.
Her instincts screamed not to walk away now—not when Colin’s story had cracked just enough to show rot beneath it. Not when Fake Pam had deliberately pulled them into this. Not when Gina was still missing.
As Duke parked and killed the engine, Andi didn’t move right away.
“She didn’t want us to find Gina,” Andi announced.
Duke turned toward her, a wrinkle between his eyes. “Who didn’t want us to find Gina?”
“Fake Pam.” Andi shook her head. “She just wanted to get a feel for our take on what happened.”
“Why would she do this?”
“The only thing that makes sense is that she’s working with the killer.”
Duke tilted his head. “The killer who might be Colin?”
“Possibly.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than before.
Finally, Duke said, “We leave tomorrow. But that doesn’t mean we stop.”
Andi looked at him. “You’re thinking we handle this remotely?”
“I say we keep pulling threads and see what unravels.”
Her shoulders eased just a fraction. “We’ll get together with everyone tonight. Then we can decide how we’re going to proceed—who does what and how we stay connected.”
Duke nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
That evening, the team didn’t gather around a table.
Instead, they stood near the edge of a narrow waterfront path instead, camera lights clipped to tripods, microphones already live, and the city humming in the distance.
They needed to record some footage for their next episode, part of which would be in video form. It was only them out here—that’s the way it always was when they recorded.
Andi tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket and faced the lens, the San Francisco Bay glistening behind them in dark, steady silence.
This was where a jogger had been killed three years ago. Early morning. No witnesses. No answers.
Ranger and Simmy were back with them now, Anastasia perched on a low concrete barrier just out of frame, bundled in a hoodie and swinging her legs as Simmy quietly coached her on staying behind the equipment.
The glow from the camera lights softened the shadows, turning a stretch of path meant for movement into something static and exposed.
For a few minutes, Andi let herself slip into the rhythm of recording. The cadence. The practiced balance between empathy and restraint.
If she focused on the words, the framing, the timing, she could almost pretend this was just another episode. Just another city.
They took a break from recording, and Mariella turned toward them. Something was clearly on her mind—she’d seemed preoccupied for the entire evening.
She cleared her throat. “By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to show you all.”
Andi immediately felt the subtle shift in her chest, the instinctive tightening that came when a conversation veered off script. She glanced away from the camera, fingers curling against her palm.
“I’ve been going through our emails.” Mariella held up her phone. “Listener requests. Case submissions. We get hundreds every week, and most of them blur together.”
“And?” Andi prompted, her voice measured.
Mariella scrolled, then stopped. “I found one that came in when we were in Portland.”
Andi’s pulse ticked faster. Portland wasn’t that long ago. Just two weeks. Close enough to still feel warm. “What about it?”
“While we were there, a woman went missing,” Mariella said, lowering her voice even though no one else was close enough to hear except their team.
The night seemed to press in around them, the river’s movement the only thing that hadn’t stilled.
Andi thought she knew where Mariella was going with this—but she hoped she was wrong.