“The first episode is going up tomorrow,” Baker cut in. “I need assurances that you actually have something here.”
I wanted to growl at him but bit it back. “I have something.” In reality, all I had so far was the background I’d managed to gather on Emerson’s case. Recording it between paddleboarding and my trip into town had taken hardly any time at all. And I knew that wasn’t a good sign. If I didn’t get some firsthand accounts and quick, I was going to be in trouble.
“And that something is?” Baker pressed.
I hadn’t wanted to lay my cards out just yet. I was still putting the pieces together. And I wanted the listeners to go on the journey with me, to care about Emerson’s story so the others’ would hit them even harder. Because if they cared, they’d rally around me. They’d turn over every rock until we had answers.
Answers I needed more than anything.
“I’m talking to locals. Getting a feel for the town and finding out more about Emerson.”
“You’ve got people willing to go on the record?” he pressed.
I fought not to wince. “Not yet, but I will.”
I knew Dean would go on the record, but he’d need parental permission, and I doubted they’d give it. Not to mention the fact that he didn’t really know Emerson and would barely remember what had happened a decade ago.
Baker sighed as if so damned disappointed in me. “Ridley. Pull the plug on this. Come to LA and do the spin-off I pitched you for a couple of weeks.”
I couldn’t help the way my nose wrinkled, as if I smelled something bad. Baker had wanted me to help launch his newest true-crime venture. A podcast hosted by a bunch of reality TV stars who had made names for themselves by being total douchebags on a variety of dating shows. He was calling itReality Rampage.
“No thanks. I’m good here.”
“Ridley,” Baker gritted out.
“Give her a few weeks,” Sully interjected. “You know Rids always finds what she needs to.”
A muscle fluttered wildly along Baker’s jaw. “Fine. You’ve got two weeks. You fuck this up and the leash gets shorter. These advertising dollars pay your salary too.”
And with that, he hitendon the call. But Sully remained.
I slumped in my chair. “Thanks for having my back.”
“Always.” He studied me for a long moment, a grandfatherly concern radiating through his blue-gray eyes. “There a reason why this one is calling you?”
I usually shared with Sully. Told him my thought process. But I hadn’t with Emerson’s case. Couldn’t get myself to say it out loud quite yet. So I gave him a half-truth. “She might be alive, but he still stole her life.”
Sully’s mouth pulled down in a frown. “How so?”
“She’s still so traumatized she never leaves the house. I don’t blame her. She has no idea who took her. She would have to walk around not knowing if the man who'd just held the door open for her is the same one who kidnapped her. She has no idea what he’d planned to do with her. All those unknowns, they’ve taken everything from her.”
Sully scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheek. “Can’t imagine.”
“Me either.” I sighed, toying with a pen on my desk. “There's more. I think there’s a chance this was the first in a series of abduction murders.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t you tell the suit that? You know he would’ve laid off you if you connected it to something serial.”
I winced, knowing he was right. “I also know that he would’ve pushed me to lay it all out right at the beginning. But I have to follow the trail. Start where he did. And that’s with Emerson.”
Sully squeezed the back of his neck. “All right. What do you need from me?”
“Right now I gotta prep some stuff for tomorrow. You good to get the episode submitted? I didn’t have any tweaks.”
He straightened, jerking his chin in a nod. “I’ll get it uploaded and ready to go.”
“Thanks, Sul. Don’t work too hard.”
His lips twitched. “That’s you we’re talking about.”