18. Ridley

18

RIDLEY

“Neither the sheriff’s department nor the California State Police ever gathered enough evidence to make an arrest in Emerson’s case, which begs the question: What were they missing?”

I hit the stop-recording button on my computer and slumped back in my chair. It was a good ending. The kind of cliff-hanger that got people tuning in the next week, but more than that, it got them motivated to begin putting the pieces together themselves.

The only problem was, we didn’t have enough pieces to begin with. I needed more interviews, leads. I’d burned through the easy yeses, the people who were happy to talk. It was time to start winning over the hesitant ones. I needed to get Ezra on the record for sure. Maybe some more of Emerson’s classmates and teachers.

I reached for my mug and took a sip of tea as I hit upload on the files I’d recorded. They’d go to an online folder where Sully could access them for editing. I glanced at my watch. It was after eight here, eleven in New York, but Sully was a night owl, often working until two or three in the morning.

I opened my video chat app on my computer and selected his name. It rang four times before he answered, and when his face filled the screen, his gray-streaked hair was in disarray. I winced. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Naw,” Sully mumbled as he sat in his chair. “Was just watching the tail end of the Real Housewives of Salt Lake City reunion.”

I chuckled. “I’ve covered a lot of gruesome cases, but no one terrifies me more than those women.”

“That’s because you’re smart,” he said with a grin, his eyes moving over the computer screen. “These new recordings ready to roll?”

I nodded, taking another sip of tea to try to soothe my vocal cords. “I sent you an email earlier with the time codes for the interview clips.”

“I’ll get on those tonight,” he assured me.

“We've got a few days, so there’s no rush.”

Sully peered at me through the screen. “You okay? Baker being a dick again?”

I scoffed. “Baker’s always a dick.”

Sully grunted in agreement. “More so than usual?”

I shrugged, shifting in my chair. Baker had sent me more than a few texts telling me the episodes didn’t have the “wow” factor we needed, and pressuring me to wrap this up early and head to LA to help out with Reality Rampage . I shuddered at the idea. But the truth was, his doubts were getting to me because they were only compounding my own.

“Not enough people are willing to talk to me on the record,” I admitted.

Sully leaned back in his chair. “Ah, the small-town curse.”

“Usually once I get one or two on the show, more want to open up. But that hasn’t been the case here. And I need people to talk. I need them to find a new lead.”

Sully tapped his fingers along his desk, his curtains covering the New York City skyline fluttering in a breeze. “You feeling certain that the suspects the police had are in the clear?”

I mulled that one over. I still wasn’t sure about Grady; he definitely had a darker streak. And there was something about Coach Kerr that didn’t completely sit right with me the more I thought about our chat. But neither of them pinged my radar for Emerson. “My gut says it’s not them,” I admitted.

My gut wasn’t scientific in any way. But over the past four years, it had been fine-tuned by case after case. By interviews with criminals and suspects, I’d begun to get a feel for who was capable of what.

Sully was quiet for a long moment. “Kid, if your gut says it’s not them, then it’s not. On to the next.”

“I just don’t know who the next is.”

“Maybe—” Sully’s statement was cut off by a swift knock on my van door.

I stiffened at the sound. No one should be out here this late.

“Mason County Sheriff’s Department.”

The familiar voice still had that rasp to it, but there was something beneath it, a tightly held anger just trying to break free.

Hell.

Sully’s eyes widened on the screen. “Do you want me to call Baker? He can call the lawyer.”

I gave my head a quick shake. “No. Just give me a second.” The last thing I wanted was Baker overreacting and blowing this sky-high.

I pushed out of my chair and crossed to the door, Tater letting out a meow of protest at her nighttime nap being interrupted. Sliding the door open, I was greeted by Colt’s glowering expression, a deputy standing behind him.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Colt on his own was trouble in more ways than one, but Colt with backup said this was official trouble. I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Evening, officers, how can I help you?”

“You can give us your whereabouts for the past three hours,” Colt clipped.

I frowned. So much for apologies and making nice. “I’ve been here, working on the next podcast episode.”

Colt’s jaw worked back and forth. “Can anyone corroborate that?”

Annoyance bubbled as I struggled to keep my cool. “Will you take the testimony of Tater?”

“No, I won’t take the word of a damned cat.”

My eyes narrowed on him. “Why do you want to know?”

The familiar energy began to buzz beneath my skin. Something had happened. Something that had to do with Emerson’s case. There was no other reason for Colt to be up here demanding my alibi.

Colt opened his mouth, and I knew it would be to blow me off, but then he paused, and it was almost as if he were playing out his options in his mind. He changed tack. “There was a break-in at the station tonight. Someone got into the room where cold case files and evidence are held.”

My jaw went slack. “And you think it was me ?”

Colt glared at me. “Who else would have an interest in getting access to those records?”

“How about the goddamned kidnapper?” I spat. Anger surged, pressing against my skin. Colt had made such a show of apologizing, but that was all it was, a show. Moments where I thought I’d gotten true vulnerability from him had just been bullshit.

“They’ve been in that storage locker for years,” Colt accused. “If a rogue kidnapper was wanting to cover his tracks, don’t you think he would’ve broken in there before now?”

“He knows that I’m working the case now. Looking for leads. He’s worried that there’s something in those files that points to him. We just have to find it.”

Something passed over Colt’s expression, a hint of doubt possibly. But he covered it just as quickly. “There is no we . You are a suspect in an assault case, not to mention breaking and entering.”

“Assault?” I asked, shock bleeding into my voice.

“A deputy was injured when he surprised the intruder. He’s at the county hospital now getting stitched up and undergoing tests.”

Empathy for the officer swamped me, but fast on its heels was something that felt a lot like hope. Hope that I was on to something here. And there was someone who wasn’t happy about that. Someone who was still here in Shady Cove.

“Now,” Colt went on. “I’d like you to come down to the station for some questioning.”

I gaped at him. “Are you arresting me?”

“No, but?—”

“Excuse me.” Sully’s voice rose from the computer in the back of my van.

Colt’s hand went to the butt of his gun. “Is someone in there with you?”

“Jesus,” I muttered. “It’s my editor. I was on a video call with him.”

Colt eased up a bit, and Sully went on. “I’ve got an alibi for Ridley. The audio files she just uploaded are time-stamped. We can get them over to your techs to verify.”

Colt frowned. “Time-stamped…”

“Yeah. Because I’ve been here for the past five hours working and recording just like I said. Now unless you really are going to arrest me, get the hell out and don’t come back without a warrant.”

Colt’s deep-brown eyes darkened to black. “Ridley?—”

“Don’t,” I snapped. “I forgave you once. Forgave you for being a dick of epic proportions at least three times. But now I’m done. Just stay the hell away from me.”

And with that I slammed the door right in his face.