Page 25 of Into the Shadows

“Your investigation led you to search the lake. Can you tell me about that?”

“A K-9 unit signaled her descent from her house to the lake. While we couldn't have said definitivelythat the kidnapper walked her down to the dock, we thought it was a logical place for her to have gone missing. Given that we didn't have any evidence of harm, we thought she could have drowned in the lake.”

“You had divers searching the lake to see if there was any evidence of a body or anything there?”

“We put a call into one of the state-run teams to do a grid search. I can't speak to what was or wasn’t found by them.”

“I understand.” I continue questioning Sheriff Lansing, but each one ends in a similar response. He’s either tired of answering my questions or genuinely can't respond. Regardless, I’m not getting anything new from him, so I wrap up the interview.

I walk out to the foyer alone and say goodbye to Tawny. When I’m back in my car, I listen to the tape to make notes of any spots that aren’t quite clear, as well as thoughts I want to share with my listeners. I’d hoped Lansing’s demeanor change meant he would share more information with me about the case. Sometimes, I’ll get lucky and find a law enforcement officer who is willing to share more details about a case.

This wasn’t the worst interview I’d ever had, but it wasn’t as successful as I wanted. It won’t add anything more than validating the ongoing investigation.

I put all my equipment back into my bag and pull out my phone. My stomach swoops when I see a text message from an unknown number.

Unknown

Hey, Lottie. This is Teddy. Let me know when you're done with your interview. I need to know you're safe.

I wantto be annoyed with him for second-guessing my ability to take care of myself, but I’m not an idiot when it comes to my job. Things can go sideways at the drop of a hat, and having someone care enough to ask for an update is kind of nice.

I’m not going to let myself get overly hopeful about the fact that he actually texted me. No, I’ll strangle that part of me until he comes right out and says,“I want to go on a date with you.”

Chapter 15

Teddy

The pungent scent of rubber mats and cleaning supplies hits me as I walk through the door of The Warehouse. After I got home from dealing with Grandad’s truck—which involved a short conversation with the mechanic who basically said, ‘You’re fucked,’ and a trip to the used car lot—I did a cursory search for gyms in the area. My frustration has mounted to epic levels, and an outlet is becoming necessary. It’s been in the back of my mind to find a trainer to help me get back into shape, but I couldn’t find the courage to go through with it.

To say I was surprised there is a boxing gym in Sonoma would be an understatement. I made it a couple of days before I couldn’t resist the pull to check it out.

In the center of the room, there are two boxing rings, both of which have people sparring in them. Around the outer edge are several different types of weight apparatuses, with plenty of room to move around them as well as space to lay out exercise mats. On the far right side of the gym, the floor is covered in a thick mat-type surface no one is using. I wonder if they do classes over there.

The receptionist at the desk smiles at me as I walk in. “Hi, how can we help you?”

“I’m interested in joining the gym and working with a personal trainer.” I shove my hands into my pockets, clenching them into fists. I have to tell her I have a prosthesis. The trainer will need to be familiar with my limitations if they’re going to work with me. But this is the first time I’ll have to say it out loud. I’ve never told anyone about it. Not that there’s been anyone to tell in the first place.

The physical therapist who helped me get used to my prosthetic leg said that hiring a trainer would be the best way to get back into working out. It’s easier to get frustrated when I do it on my own, which I’ve already experienced.

I have no idea if that's a typical bit of advice for anyone getting used to a prosthetic limb or if she’d picked up on my surly mood about it, but I'm grateful she pointed it out. A part of me wanted to do it alone out of sheer stubbornness. Then I attempted some of the exercises and stretches the PT assigned and quickly realized that if I had any hope of getting back to my previous physicality, I was going to need some help.

“Absolutely,” the receptionist says. “I’m Ashley. My husband, Jacob, and I run The Warehouse. Are you looking for any specific type of training? We've got a few different options to meet your needs.”

I clear my throat. “I have a prosthetic leg, so I’ll need some help modifying exercises.”

“Jacob has extensive training in that regard, so he’ll be your best bet.”

I look around the room. “Is he here by chance?”

“Yes, that's him over there.” She points to the second ring at the farthest end of the room, where a man with salt-and-pepper hair is sparring with another guy several years younger than him. “I can have him chat with you when he'sfinished.”

“That would be great.”

“Okay, let me show you around the gym.” Ashley leads me on a tour through the gym, explaining all the ins and outs of being a member. The fee is surprisingly reasonable, and the locker room and weight sections are all state-of-the-art. We end the tour back at the reception desk, and Ashley lets me know I'm free to use the facilities whenever I’m ready.

Once she leaves, I set to work doing some stretching exercises I've been failing to do on my own. A little bit down from me, a man about my age rolls out a mat. He nods over at me, his blond hair flopping across his forehead. Then he does a double take, looking at me as if he thinks he might know me. I have no idea who this guy is, so I go back to my stretches, and so does he. I guess I just looked familiar, then.

He periodically glances at me as if he’s still trying to place me. It takes everything I have to not snap out,Can I help you?When he finishes stretching, he turns his whole attention toward me, and I know he’s finally going to say something.

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