Page 6 of Dead Man's Hollow
Amy’d like to think she’s the most well-adjusted of the three. She’s had the most therapy, and she’s been diligent about not smothering her children, fostering their independence and instilling them with self-confidence. But the sleepless nights spent staring at her ceiling fan as her heart pounds and worries race through her mind suggest otherwise. She lays awake imagining scenarios as plausible as Evan being in a car accident on his way home from Becca’s place and as unlikely as Owen meeting a predator on the internet and running away and Ava overdosing on street drugs. Her friends assure her the same anxieties and catastrophizing thoughts loop through their heads in the middle of the night. But she’s sure it’s different. None of her friends was the last person to see their sister before she vanished without a trace.
She looks now at Rich. She loves him deeply, and she knows he loves her. But their relationship was born out of tragedy, and that’s always made it seem more fragile, less resilient than it might have been if Heather hadn’t disappeared. Her biggest concern is that her marriage won’t withstand reopening this thirty-year-old wound.
He squeezes her hands gently, as if he can read her mind, and says, “You know I’ll support you, whatever the three of you decide.”
“Thank you.”
He goes on. “I’m worried that you’ll get your hopes up.”
She shakes her head sadly. “We all know there’s no happy ending to be had here, Rich. If Maisy Farley can get to the truth of what happened to Heather, it’s not going to be the news that she’s living happily somewhere under an assumed name. Let’s be honest, the best we can hope for is a body to bury.”
His sharp intake of breath surprises her. Surely he doesn’t think she’s that deluded. Does he?
She tilts her head and looks at him. “I’m okay, really.”
He studies her for a moment longer before leaning in to kiss the top of her forehead. “Drink your wine. I’ll make dinner tonight after I drop the kids off.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protests.
“I want to.” He smooths a lock of hair behind her ear. “You just take care of yourself tonight.”
She smiles up at him and picks up her glass. Their relationship may have been born out of tragedy, but she’s lucky to have him, and she knows it.
ChapterFour
Their voices floatin from the hallway in urgent, indistinct whispers as the Ryan sisters argue amongst themselves. Here and there, a phrase emerges from the sibilant sounds. “We already agreed” is plainly audible. It’s followed by “lost cause.”
And then, a man’s voice, clear and definitive, says, “worried you’re re-traumatizing yourselves.”Maisy knows this can only be Rich, Amy’s husband. Identifying him is hardly a trick. Although Kristy, the youngest sister, is also married, her husband is home watching the kids. Rich is the only male at the meeting.
Jordana’s eyebrows pinch together as she frowns. Her body tenses as she prepares to stand up and stride out into the corridor. Maisy places a hand on her producer’s arm. The Ryans had stepped outside after hearing Maisy and Jordana’s pitch for the season. If they’re meant to investigate Heather Ryan’s disappearance, the women in the hallway will come to the right conclusion. If they don’t … well, Maisy isn’t sure what they’ll do then. But she’s not going to pressure the Ryans. They have to want this.
“Have a little faith, sugar. Let them work it out.”
Jordana looks like she’s about to protest but she doesn’t. Maisy gives her a reassuring smile.
She's about to flip through the research file again when the door swings open, and the three women return to the conference room. Diana’s in the lead. Rich holds the door and then trails behind the sisters. They retake their original seats across the table, lined up by age. Diana, the oldest, then Amy, then Kristy. Heather, if she were here, would slot in between Amy and Kristy. As he did earlier, Rich sits in the leather chair in the corner rather than at the table.
Maisy turns up the wattage on her smile, fixes her gaze on the sisters, and waits.
Diana clears her throat. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Y’all need to be on the same page if we move forward. Better to hash it out now than once we start airing episodes.”
If one of the Ryan women changes her mind and backs out after the season starts, it will be an unholy headache. One Maisy neither wants nor needs.
Diana nods. “Thanks for understanding.”
Then Amy asks, “If we go ahead and do it, how will it work? You’ll air the episodes as you go? You don’t hold them all until the end?”
Jordana gives Maisy a questioning look. She nods as if to say go ahead.
“That’s right. The Farley Files investigates in real time, uncovering the truth of the story along with our listeners. Our market research shows that this immediacy keeps the audience invested in the story. Necessarily, every episode ends on a cliffhanger since we don’t know what happens next either. Engagement in our first season was quite high.” Jordana folds her hands on the table in front of her and eyes the women.
From his corner, Rich asks, “And if you fall on your face, then what? The whole season’s a bust?”
Maisy flicks her eyes toward him for a few seconds before addressing her answer to the sisters. “Rich has identified the risk of our format. If my investigation uncovers nothing new, if listeners don’t send in any tips, if no evidence emerges, then I fall on my face.” She waits a beat. “But if I thought that was a real possibility, I wouldn’t structure my podcast this way. After all, I like my face.”
Kristy laughs softly. Amy grins at her. Even Diana’s tense, tight facial muscles relax. The trademark Maisy Farley charm has once again worked its magic.
