Chapter 4

CHAPTER

4

LINDSEY

Present day

"YOU'RE HERE E ARLY." Ryan slid into the booth opposite me and gave me his charming smile.

"Honestly, I wasn't sure I was going to come at all," I told him flatly.

He held my gaze. "I'm glad you did."

I looked away first, my eyes lowering to my almost-empty coffee mug. I'd arrived at Perk and Pastries, a place I usually visited on my way home from the late shift at work, early, to give myself time to back out and leave if I needed to. The thing was, the longer I sat there, the more I knew I had to stay. Ryan had made it clear that he knew things about Jess and that made him incredibly appealing to me, whether I liked it or not.

Rhonda Taylor, a girl I'd gone to high school with and who worked at the café, came over to take Ryan's order and I asked for another coffee.

Growing up, Rhonda had always been nice to me. People in Mt. Randall treated me in one of two ways—like the main event at a freak show or like someone fresh out of the leper colony. Jess's disappearance either garnered fascination or fear, and people's behavior toward me reflected that. Rhonda was one of the rare few who was neither. She was nice, but not a friend. She had no idea how much I appreciated her polite disinterest.

My phone rang loudly from somewhere at the bottom of my purse as Ryan ordered himself a coffee. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen, seeing that it was an unknown number. I turned off the ringer and shoved it back in my purse.

"You can take that," he offered as Rhonda left to get our drinks.

"It's probably another journalist. They've been hounding my parents and me ever since those remains were found. My dad thinks we should get new numbers."

Ryan winced. "Well, I can see how easy it is to lump me in with all of them."

"Yeah, I hope you bring more to the table than half-baked questions and no sense of privacy." I raised my eyebrows and gave him a pointed look.

"No half-baked questions, I promise." He crossed his heart with a finger. "So, tell me a bit about yourself, Lindsey."

"This isn't a date, Ryan. You don't need to loosen me up with small talk. And this will be off the record." I wouldn't budge on that. I knew how much damage a sound bite could cause and I didn't want to read my words in his newspaper months, or even years, from now.

"Absolutely. We'll keep this between us."

"I mean it, Ryan. I'm not a source for your article." I watched the way he picked at the skin around his thumb. It must have been a nervous habit.

"I promise." He was so emphatic that it was hard not to believe him—to trust him.

Rhonda came back and placed two coffees in front of us, before giving me a knowing smile. "Enjoy," she cooed and left.

Clearly, she thought this was some sort of date, and I hated that she thought that, but she was gone before I could correct her.

Ryan took a sip of his flat black coffee. "A sweet tooth, I see," Ryan commented as I took a long drink of my mocha latte. I didn't respond to his overt friendliness.

This whole thing had the feel of opening Pandora's box. Once we started, there was no unknowing. But I was here now, and there was no going back.

"So, you got me here, now tell me what you know, Ryan." I dove straight in, getting right to the point. My heart hammered in my chest as I waited, hating that he held all the cards.

"It's not as easy as that," he began. "It's more about—" He stopped abruptly then turned the conversation in a direction I hadn't expected. "First, tell me what you remember about Jess."

Her name had a visible effect on both of us. I sucked in a breath, he let one out.

Jess.

A thousand images flitted through my brain, but nothing concrete. They were hazy, half-real, maybe half-imagined things. Things I had read. Things I had heard. It was hard to determine what I had made up and what were legitimate memories.

I scowled, irritated by the direction of our conversation. "That's not what I agreed to."

Ryan's expression was full of uncertainty. "I know, but …"

"No, Ryan, there is no but here," I interjected abruptly. It felt like he was playing games with me, and I was not in the mood. "You said you had information. You said that if I met you, that if I gave you a chance, then you would tell me what you knew. Was that just lip service? Because if so …"

"No, no, not lip service at all!" It was his turn to interrupt me this time. I scowled as I crossed my arms. "She hated Thin Mints Girl Scout cookies," he said, looking at me through dark lashes. I scoffed, but he grinned. "I know, I know, everyone loves those things, but not Jess. At least, that's what I was told," he added quickly.

"I hate them, too," I said, my voice cracking. I felt an adrenaline surge at the thought that Jess and I shared something so inane and silly. Yet it felt so important all at the same time. "What else?" I asked, trying to keep the pleading out of my voice.

Ryan looked apologetic, yet firm. "Your turn."

My scowl returned. "Again with the games."

"It's not a game, Lindsey. You give a little, I'll give a little. It can be that easy." He picked up his coffee and took another sip while I thought over his proposal.

Part of me didn't want to share my sister with him. She belonged to me. I had held on to her so hard for so long, I didn't know how to begin relinquishing my grip on her.

"It's okay … start small. Even the tiniest details matter." Ryan's voice was hushed. I could barely hear him. We were practically alone in the tiny coffee shop. Just him and me.

And Jess.

"That's not our deal," I reminded him. "You're supposed to be telling me what you know about her. About her case."

"And I will, Lindsey. I promise." He promised but when I looked unconvinced, he caved. "Okay, listen, she liked peanut butter cookies and sweet coffee. She had a thing for Dave Matthews, she was obsessed with everything he sang. She hated the feel of her hair on the back of her neck and so she tied it up a lot. Does that satisfy you?"

My skin itched with the need to get up and go, yet something kept me glued to the seat. I felt a mixture of emotions well up inside of me. "I don't know … I'm not sure …"

"It's okay, try sharing a memory of her with me. Something tells me you need to." Ryan put his hand over mine and squeezed. "As much as this is about you getting information, I think it will feel good to share it, too."

"So you can put it in your article?" I challenged.

Ryan lifted his hands in surrender. "Off the record, remember."

I stared down into my coffee. "What if I tell you I don't remember her. Not really."

"So tell me what you do remember," he repeated, without an ounce of judgment in his tone.

His words were like a form of hypnosis. And for some reason I found myself starting on the worst day. The most important day.

"Everything changed in that moment," I admitted, staring down into my drink.

"Like what?"

"It was my sixth birthday when she vanished. There were no more birthday parties for me ever again, that's for sure." I snorted out my annoyance, but there was no conviction behind it. I had already done my grieving for birthday parties.

"That couldn't have been easy."

"It wasn't." I looked up, my eyes meeting his. "It isn't ."

My childhood had ended the day Jess went missing.

"How do you live up to the memory of a missing person … you can't." I shrugged halfheartedly. Tears burned my eyes with barely contained bitterness. "I get it now, I do, but growing up with the ghost of her everywhere, despite my parents barely talking about her …" I stopped, not sure I could go on.

Ryan looked at me. "It's like being haunted." I drew back, startled at hearing my thoughts echoed back to me from his lips. His smile was grim. "It's hard to escape the memory of someone who has become perfect through the very act of remembering them." It was both the best and the worst thing he could say. Ryan briefly touched my hand. His fingers were warm and he withdrew them before I could react. "You're more than the sister of a ghost, Lindsey, that I'm sure of."

His words, so seemingly genuine, so heartfelt, were exactly what I needed to hear. It felt like someone was finally seeing me for the first time in my life. Seeing me as more than Jess's little sister. As more than the last person to see a missing woman. And as I gradually thawed, I felt empowered to say the things I had, up until this moment, kept locked up tight. To say the guilty truth I'd always thought, but never said aloud.

"I wish they'd find her body and get it over with." I lowered my eyes as the words escaped, the vicious conviction of that statement burning through me.

"You don't wish she was out there somewhere?" Ryan asked, his expression darkening slightly. "That maybe she'll come home one day?"

I glanced up sharply. "Of course I do. But after all these years, we have to be realistic. If Jess was out there, she'd let us know. I can't imagine she'd let us think she was … dead … if she wasn't." My voice became shaky but I kept going. "But having confirmation that she's not coming back, that we'll never see her again, is exactly what my parents need. If we knew that she was really gone instead of clinging to some misguided hope, then we could move on with our lives instead of being stuck in place indefinitely."

Ryan acted as if he got it. I was relieved that he didn't seem to be judging me. Because for years I had been judging myself. Feeling guilty for wanting to know my sister was dead. And wondering what sort of person that made me.

Despite my wariness because he was a journalist, and our less than truthful beginning, I found myself opening up to him. A voice of warning yelled in the back of my mind, telling me that this was what reporters did. They lured you in with shared confidences and empathy. But I prided myself on being able to read people. It had served me well so far, and I didn't feel like Ryan was putting on an act. He seemed sincere, and his concern felt honest.

Of course, that could be what he wanted me to think.

Because of this, I knew I needed to carry on. I realized this wasn't all about Jess, but about me, too. About getting the things out that I had never given a voice to before.

I had never really processed what happened. The impact on me. I had never been able to talk about my memories, what few I had. Partly because my parents made it clear they couldn't listen and partly because by sharing them, I had to acknowledge all the ways it had ruined my life. I had tried therapy a few times, but had never stuck with it. I knew it had to do with my fear of opening up and exposing all these ugly thoughts that I kept staunchly hidden away.

But Ryan, with his good-natured smile and compassion made the walls around me crumble, ever so slightly. I wanted to tell him the little things that I thought might be real. The memories that might be mine. And I wanted to tell him for Jess.

And for me.

"I remember her smell," I started—a little hesitant at first. Was I really doing this? Was I going to hand my memories over to this stranger? But I found once the floodgates had opened, I couldn't stop myself. That was the danger in sharing. One recollection led to another, then another. And before I knew it I'd be slicing myself open and letting Ryan see all of me. I hoped I wasn't making a huge mistake. But how could it be, when this was the closest I had felt to Jess since I was six years old? I hadn't realized how much I missed that sisterly love, the bond that hadn't quite disappeared the day she had. I had simply pushed it away to save myself the pain of feeling it.

Ryan's smile was soft. Wistful even. But I wasn't focused on him. I was back there … with my big sister.

"I remember sneaking into her room and spraying her jasmine perfume after she went to college so I could pretend she was still around." I smiled. "Coffee, too. She always smelled like coffee."

"She drank it practically nonstop," he chuckled. "That's what her friends said anyway."

"That makes two of us." I lifted my mug, feeling a thrill at discovering another connection.

"What else?" he urged gently, like he was reminiscing with me. Though, by now, I didn't need the prompting. Once I had started, there was no going back. I wanted to unearth everything in my mind that belonged to her.

"Her laugh. I can hear it even now. I can't quite see her face, though. I lost that as I grew up, but I can hear her." I closed my eyes briefly, transporting myself back to my earliest childhood and the memory of her laughter filling my ears and making me smile.

"This is great, Lindsey," Ryan encouraged. "What do your parents say about her? What are their memories?"

The warmth I had been feeling dissipated almost instantly and a lonely darkness took its place.

"My parents rarely talk about her, at least not on purpose. Her name is only ever an accident these days."

"Why? They're her parents. Shouldn't a father want to talk about his child?" He glowered, his voice hard. "A mother, too," he added after a beat.

"Of course my parents love her. But it's tough for them—particularly my dad." I felt defensive of my parents. I didn't want anyone, especially a stranger, to question their feelings toward Jess. They had been the subject of enough judgment and conjecture over the years. They were told they weren't doing enough to find Jess. Or their grief was too over the top. That my dad was too angry—or, in some cases, not angry enough. There was no winning in the realm of public opinion, and as such, I had grown to be incredibly protective of them.

Who was Ryan McKay to question their devotion? Their anguish?

"I don't get it." Ryan's expression had softened, but there was still an edge of tension.

"Losing Jess destroyed them. It destroyed him, my father. And honestly, Ryan, it's none of your business."

Ryan immediately looked contrite and if he had other thoughts on the issue, he kept them to himself, and I was glad. I shouldn't have to explain how learning to live without Jess had changed our family. Or why my parents acted the way they did. Everyone dealt with grief differently—there was no right or wrong way.

In our house, there was only one photo of Jess left on display—on my mom's bedside table. It had been taken on the day of her high school graduation. Sometimes it sat upright so she could see it, but more often than not, it was facedown, or put away in a drawer. Eventually, it would come out again, but never for long. Jess's smile played an endless game of hide and seek, and I had long given up looking for it.

Over the years, her photos had disappeared, just as she had. Gone without a trace. Her awards and trophies that had once been proudly displayed in our living room were packed away. Her life became relegated to boxes hidden in closets.

Her bedroom, however, was different. Mom had put her foot down. When Dad wanted to pack it up and turn it into a home office, she refused. It was one of the worst fights I'd ever heard them have.

Mom had gotten her way in the end. Jessica's room became a shrine—untouched. Inside, it felt as though you were transported back to 1999. A time capsule to when my family had been whole.

Ryan cleared his throat, picking at his thumb again.

"So, are you and your parents close?" he asked.

"Very. Maybe more than most thirty-year-olds and their parents. That's why I haven't been able to leave home." I flushed, feeling a little embarrassed at having admitted to this very good-looking man that I still lived at home with my parents. I knew how people viewed my decision—that to some, I looked pathetic. Maybe even a loser. But, again, with Ryan, I saw no judgment. "I know how it must look, a grown woman still sleeping in her childhood bedroom, but they're scared of losing me, too. And I think I'm scared of leaving them on their own with two empty bedrooms. I know it sounds messed up, and I can't expect you to understand what it's like having to live in the shadow of a missing person." I hesitated, ready to share my darkest secret for the first time. "We all loved her … we still do, but a part of me hates her as well."

I felt guilty saying it, but it felt good, too. There was a rush of relief that made me feel rejuvenated. And I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude to Ryan McKay for pushing me to this point.

Who knew all it would take for me to start releasing some of this pent-up darkness was for someone I didn't know, with no connection to me or my trauma, to provide a listening ear and to make me feel seen and heard for the first time?

"You hate Jess?" Ryan sounded confused. "Why?"

"Because I was a kid—only six years old. I didn't just lose my older sister that day, I lost what my life could have been. I was no longer simply Lindsey Fadley—crappy at math, but a hell of a softball player. I was now Lindsey Fadley—sister of a missing woman. I would never have my own life, my own identity, because it was wrapped up in this horrific event that came to define everything. It came to define me ." My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. This wasn't about self-pity, this was anger.

"Growing up haunted by her ghost has ruined my life." Repeating Ryan's words from earlier seemed to resonate with both of us. There was a flash of understanding in his steady brown eyes. He got it. I didn't know why, but he did.

And what I said was the truth. My truth. And it was irrevocably linked with my shame. But it was about time I owned it instead of suppressing it.

Ryan looked thoughtful. "I don't think Jess would want you to feel that way."

"What do you know about how my sister would feel? Why, because you've researched her life, you think you know her thoughts?" I snapped defensively. Old habits die hard. Vulnerability clearly made me punchy. "This faux sympathy is worse than your pickup lines."

Ryan wasn't put off by my combativeness. "What do you remember about that day?"

I still couldn't help but see his questions about my sister as invasive. That as much as I liked having the chance to talk about Jess, the ingrained instinct to flee was hard to ignore. But I had to push through it. This could be my first step toward closure. Something I realized, I desperately needed. "I'm sure you've listened to my police interview."

"Yeah, but I want to hear it from you." He sat forward, his expression intense.

"Well, you'll get more from that interview than what I can tell you now. I've told you many times now, I don't remember much. All I know is that Jess came home for my birthday party. She went out to her car to get something for me. I learned much later it was a cake. I think I remember her telling me it was a surprise. I watched her from the living room window. I looked away—"

"For ten seconds," Ryan filled in and I wanted to snarl. Those words— my words—followed me everywhere.

"Right. Well one second she was there, and ten seconds later, she wasn't." I ignored the obvious disappointment on Ryan's face. "That's it. That's all I can give you. There's nothing else but the memory of being confused, sad, and lonely after that."

We sat in complete silence for a few minutes as we each digested what I had revealed. For me, it felt monumental. For Ryan, maybe not so much. After all, there wasn't a whole lot I could share that would matter to him. My fuzzy recollections were all I had and he had no idea how hard it was for me to relinquish them. I squirmed in my seat, needing to fill the silence. "Okay, my share time is over. It's your turn now. What does pestering me about what I remember have to do with where Jess is or what happened to her?"

Ryan looked thoughtful. "Honestly, I'm not sure. But sometimes memories come to us that can have a major impact. You were so young, but you probably saw more than you realized. People tend to drop their guards around children because they think they're not paying attention," Ryan explained. "So, there can be a lot buried that simply needs some prodding to bring to the surface."

"That's all fine and dandy, but I'm more interested in hearing the things you've learned. What you think happened to her," I pressed.

"There are a lot of dangling threads in this case. In all the cases, actually. There has to be a link. After all, each of the girls went to Southern State University at the same time. It's not a big school. I've never been able to figure out why the authorities didn't think the four missing women were connected. In such a small community, to have not one, not two, but four young women disappear, points to a predator. To think otherwise is not only ignorant, but stupid."

"But then they'd have to admit there might have been a serial killer. One that they turned a blind eye to," I speculated.

"Maybe. There's nothing worse for a police department's reputation than a killer on the loose that you can't catch." He smirked, but it faded quickly. "But I've been working for years to find all the ways these stories intersect. And it goes back to the first missing girl, Tammy Estep. Did you know she was Jess's RA?" Ryan asked.

I couldn't contain my gasp. "Jess knew Tammy? I had no idea!"

"She sure did." Ryan's expression became curious. "Did you ever visit Jess at college? Perhaps you met Tammy."

"Turning it back on me again I see. You really meant it when you said you give a little, I give a little, huh?" I remarked dryly.

Ryan chuckled. "My train of thought will make sense eventually. I promise. But remember what I said about kids picking up on things. I was wondering if you ever visited campus and maybe we can poke around a bit to see what you remember."

I gave him a bland look. "Or maybe you're still hoping to find a hook for your article."

Ryan's eyes widened slightly. "I really hope, once you get to know me better, that you realize my intentions are pure. I'm not some vulture. I'm not here to manipulate you …" He let out a sigh. "But I can be pushy. So, I understand if you don't want to tell me—"

"I think I remember Jess's move-in day," I interrupted, jumping straight into the deep end without a life jacket. I'd come this far after all.

He leaned forward eagerly. "And Tammy?" He got out his phone and pulled up a picture of a cross looking young woman with tight curls all over her head. She was pretty, but with a pinched, unpleasant expression. "This is Tammy Estep. Do you remember her at all? She would have been there."

I scrambled to gather my thoughts. I didn't recognize the image of the attractive, missing coed. I couldn't recall ever seeing her before. But I realized that I did have memories of going to the Southern State campus. Not many, but they were there, just below the surface. If I prodded hard enough, perhaps I could set them free.

Sometimes memories come to us that have a major impact.

Ryan tapped at his phone and pulled up another picture. This one took my breath away. It was Jess. Only a picture I had never seen before, though, in truth, I hadn't seen many. She was standing in the doorway of what looked like a cramped dorm room. She was wearing patchwork jean shorts and a striped t-shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. I could see a messy bed behind her with a plaid blanket draped across it. There was a glimpse of a poster of Monet's Bridge Over Water Lily Lake on the wall. I knew the space smelled like jasmine perfume and chocolate.

Where had that come from?

"This photo was taken in Westwood Hall, the freshman dorm where she lived." Ryan's voice seemed to come from far away. I should have asked him how he got the picture, but all I could do was brace myself as a tidal wave of images crashed through my brain.

"I don't remember Tammy," I began weakly, closing my eyes, "but I think I remember something …"

I felt the earth drop out beneath my feet and a black awning of long-forgotten memory laid out in front of me. The day she moved into her dorm slipped into my mind and I remembered .

"No running in the hall, Lindsey," Dad called out as I ran as fast as I could down the hall. I skidded into Jess's room, a knitted throw in my arms.

"Easy there, Lindsey-Bug," Mom laughed, taking the blanket from me.

I had interrupted them arguing about where to hang a poster of some pretty flowers and a bridge. Jess wanted it above her desk, Mom thought it looked better near her bed.

Mom and Jess looked a lot alike. Both of them had long dark hair and blue eyes, and every time I saw them together, I wished I looked like them, too. I felt like the odd one out with my short brown hair and brown eyes. And I didn't think I was nearly as pretty as my mom and sister.

"Sorry," I shouted, jumping onto the second bed.

"Not that one, Linds," Jess said playfully, picking me up and swinging me around before dropping me onto the other bed. "This one's mine. You can jump on it all you want."

Mom shooed me off and began straightening out the green-and-blue plaid wool blanket I had brought in from the car. She draped it over the end like she did on Jess's bed at home before moving the poster above the bed. Jess sighed but didn't say anything.

"No she cannot," she scolded Jess "I didn't just spend a good hour setting all this up for Lindsey-Bug to make a mess." Her words were stern, but Mom gave me a smile letting me know she wasn't really angry with me.

"Well, whose bed is that, then?" I asked, pointing to the one I wasn't allowed to jump on. "Is that for when I sleep over?" I laughed as Jess tickled me.

"Sorry, kiddo. That's my roommate's." Jess fluffed my hair and I smacked her hand away like I always did.

"Oh, can I have one of those?" I started to reach for a chocolate on the desk by her roommate's bed.

Jess gently moved me away from the tempting treat. "Those aren't yours to eat, Linds."

I pouted when Jess took her bottle of perfume from my hands after I sprayed the front of my shirt with her jasmine scent.

"You're going to have the best time, Jessica," Mom said, putting her arms around my sister. "But remember we're not paying for you to just have fun. This school is expensive, so, do the work and get a good education. That's what you're here for." She pulled away, holding my sister by the upper arms, her expression serious. "I remember my college days, I know how easy it is to lose sight of your goals."

"I know, Mom, don't worry," Jess muttered. She looked at me and rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue. I giggled but covered it with my hand.

Mom kissed her cheek. "I will always worry about you, Jessica. You have so much potential, you don't even know how much yet. You've worked hard to get this far, don't blow it now."

"Mom," Jess groaned. "I won't. I know our plan and I intend to stick to it. I'm going to be fine."

"Hmm." Mom sounded like she didn't really believe her. She looked to the open doorway. "Where did your dad get to?"

I hurried out to the hallway before either of them could stop me. "I'll go find him."

I ran down to the car, dodging people carrying boxes and suitcases. I didn't see Dad, so I sprinted all the way back up to the dorm room, finding Jess alone. She seemed sad and angry, even though she tried to hide it when she saw me.

"Are you going to cry, Jessie?" I asked, thinking how I would cry if I had to leave home.

Jess shook her head, but still looked like she might, so I threw my arms around her. I hugged her as hard as I could and she hugged me back, laughing about how I was growing so strong.

"Jess …" my dad's voice sounded loud in the doorway. When I turned around he looked upset, too.

"Lindsey-Bug, there you are!" Mom called out, coming from the other end of the hallway. "Please stop running around, you're going to get hurt. Come on, it's time to get going."

"Meet you at the car!" I yelled as I ducked under Mom's arm and started to run again. I glanced back and waved to Jess before I left.

"She looked sad, but a lot of kids do when they go away to college," I concluded, feeling suddenly very tired after the onslaught from the unexpected trip down memory lane.

"See, Lindsey, this is what I was talking about. There's probably all kinds of stuff up in that head of yours that we can pry loose." Ryan seemed invigorated, while I was completely depleted.

I had finished my coffee and he started to motion Rhonda over to order more drinks, but I shook my head. The memory had unnerved me. I had so few of my own recollections, but that day, dropping her off at college, that memory had been all mine.

While Ryan seemed to only be getting started, I was ready to put on the brakes.

"Are you okay?" Ryan asked, finally sensing the change in my mood.

Was I okay? I had no idea. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt. But one thing was certain, I had to get away from Ryan McKay before I shared anything else that I wasn't ready to hand over. He made it too easy to part with things that felt like they should belong solely to me.

"I think I've had enough for tonight." I hadn't gleaned much from Ryan, barring Jess's cookie preference, and that should have bothered me, but it actually felt like he had helped me unearth a lot with the new memory. Now I needed to go home and process it.

"Sure, that's fine," Ryan said, trying to hide his dismay. He paid for our coffees and then walked with me outside.

"I'm parked across the street." I indicated my red Toyota beneath the streetlight. Dad insisted the Japanese brand was the safest, which is why I drove one. "Thanks for the coffee. And, you know, the Jess stuff. It was nice to be able to talk about her for a while."

"I'm glad. And if I came across as too eager, then I'm sorry. But I really feel like together we can figure out what happened to your sister." He gave me a wide-toothed smile, as if he could barely contain himself.

His enthusiasm, which before had chafed me, now felt a little contagious. I started to feel a twinge of his belief that perhaps we could make a good team. All in the name of finding out about Jess, of course. Feeling emboldened, I added, "I enjoyed the company, too."

God, had I really said that?

I wasn't typically forward with men I didn't know. I was reserved. I kept to myself. It had been a means of survival in the years since Jess had gone missing. It's hard to know who wants you for you and not because of your connection to a tragedy. It's disturbing how many people were drawn to trauma. It had left me skeptical and cautious.

A part of me hoped Ryan wouldn't acknowledge my strange bout of flirting. But of course he acknowledged it. That seemed to be the kind of man he was. He saw it as an invitation I wasn't sure I was offering. He took a step, closing the space between us, his eyes dropping to my mouth.

"I really enjoyed spending time with you too, Lindsey."

I had the feeling he wanted to kiss me. Did I want to kiss him, too? Yes, he was attractive. Yes, he had helped me unbury a memory of Jess. But …

We stood awkwardly for a moment, neither sure what to do. I got the impression Ryan was used to getting what he wanted and he made no effort to hide he wanted me. But I wasn't the kind of woman to hand over control to anyone. Even if he had nice eyes, a knee-trembling-inducing smile and potentially life-changing information about my missing sister.

"I should go," I finally said. Things had been drawn out long enough. Wanting to keep my pride intact, I waved goodbye and crossed the street.

"Wait," he called out. When I turned back, he hesitated. I felt myself tense up. With concern he would act on his attraction? Or anticipation because I wanted him to? "Can I see you again?" Ryan asked after a beat, remaining on the sidewalk. I nodded, smiling through the nervous buzzing in my stomach. His face lit up. "Tomorrow night?"

"I'm working the late shift at the hotel. How about during the day?"

"I'm on a deadline to get the first draft of my article to my editor, so I'll be slammed all day." He sighed in frustration, then he brightened. "Well, I have to eat sometime, so maybe I can time my dinner with your break?"

"Okay. I usually grab dinner around six thirty. Then maybe you can tell me more about Jess." It was important to remind him, and myself, what the stakes were in this. What our arrangement was hinged on.

For a split second his smile seemed to falter before he quickly corrected himself. "Okay then."

On the way home I thought about what was happening with Ryan. He was older than me, more Jess's age than mine—but, as much as I wanted to deny it, I felt a connection to him that was both new and unexpected.

Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn't, but, for the first time in my life, I thought I might be willing to see where it went.

Ten Seconds to Vanish: The Unsolved Disappearance of Jessica Fadley

Episode 4

Stella: Welcome back true-crime lovers. I'm your host Stella—

Rachel: And I'm Rachel.

Stella: And this is Ten Seconds to Vanish: The Unsolved Disappearance of Jessica Fadley.

*Theme music plays*

Stella: Okay, wow, these past few weeks have been nuts, Rach. Were you expecting this cold case to get as popular as it has?

Rachel: Not at all. I'm glad Jessica is finally getting the attention she deserves. Did you see Jimmy Kimmel talking about it on his show?

Stella: And it's all thanks to you guys. You are what's keeping the lights on.

Rachel: And we hope you keep listening, because the twists are going to come fast and hard with this one. So, without further ado, let's dive in.

Stella: Today, we take a left turn and focus on another woman who has never been found.

Rachel: And how it potentially ties in with Jessica's case. Okay, I've got my bag of chips and my favorite salsa. I'm ready, Stel, bring it on.

Stella: Let's get in our time machine and head back to November 1998 in America, way down south—

Rachel: Ah, the fall of '98. I can almost hear Shania Twain and Savage Garden blasting from the speakers of my '87 Buick LeSabre.

Stella: Not a chance. Give me some Oasis or Blur anytime. Though, our next missing coed, Tammy Estep, wouldn't have been listening to any of that. She was a jam-band girl all the way. According to friends, she spent the summer after high school going to every Phish show on the East Coast. I'll be honest, I had no idea who Phish were, but from all accounts, this sounds a bit like the festival scene we have in the UK.

Rachel: I know literally nothing about festivals in England, but you can't have a nineties college girl without a good touring jam band thrown in there. And she also loved the band Widespread Panic and told a bunch of her friends she was thinking about following them around during the summer.

Stella: Which is why the police dismissed her disappearance at first, right?

Rachel: You got it, Stel. They wrote her off as another disaffected youth who had run off. Which, in reality, was so not Tammy. She may like her jam bands and to let her hair down now and then by going to some shows, but she was as straight edge as they came.

Stella: She was straight edge and super reliable. She had a 3.9 GPA and was the Resident Advisor in the Westwood dormitory—

Rachel: Which was Jessica's dorm. Shit, Stel, the lines are already crossing.

Stella: Exactly. So Tammy and Jess knew each other. and apparently she had a real scandalous streak. I spoke with Tammy's best friend, Brenda, who said Tammy was involved with an older man. She also says she told the police, but, of course, they did absolutely nothing with the information.

Rachel: We should rename this podcast "Five Hundred Ways the Police Suck."

Stella: You're not wrong, my friend.

Rachel: So, this older man—are we talking about a senior maybe?

Stella: Oh no, Rach. This guy was a professor at Southern State … and married, too.

Rachel: Oh, that is scandalous! Tsk, tsk, Tammy.

Stella: But does this married, older man have anything to do with her disappearance? Some say yes, but what about the other missing girls? Let's dig a little deeper …