Page 82 of What They'll Say About Us

"I lost my job in a company-wide layoff. My two friends, Cassidy and Morgan, were part of that. We needed something to do while we were looking for career jobs, and we love true crime stories, so we thought it would be fun to drink wine and talk about crime, which I'm sure sounds frivolous and bad to someone like you."

"I'm aware of the popularity of true crime novels, podcasts, and television shows. But it's often romanticized or sanitized."

"Well, sure, because the real darkness would be too much. It's not really about the crime itself; it's about the people involved. Their characters, their backstories, their friends, their families. One decision, one mistake, one moment can change everything. We want to understand how they got to that moment, what they could have done to prevent it, what others could have done if they'd only been more aware or more willing. And then there's the mystery of what actually happened when there are no answers. In our podcast, we want to give a voice to the people who no longer have one. That's the premise; we want to tell their story. We want to bring them back to life so they're not just a statistic or a case number. Their lives mattered." I stopped abruptly. "Sorry, I got a little carried away."

"I like it. I like your passion and your premise. Contrary to what you may think, I believe every victim should have a voice as well, and I'm often that voice."

"I'm sure you are. You're a real investigator; we're just armchair detectives most of the time. And it's just a podcast."

"A very popular one from what I've seen. Is this your career now?"

"It is for the foreseeable future. We're getting new sponsors every day, so we're able to support ourselves again, and it's become a job for all of us. We don't always go on the road. That's for special cases. This time around, it was just because Alina forced me to get involved, and I think our listeners like it when we are personally involved. That's part of the attraction."

"The inside scoop," he murmured.

"Yes."

Colton considered me for a moment over his beer. "You know what's ironic? Cabot used to say our job was to show up for the victims and their families, to make sure they got justice. But he didn't show up for Paige."

"So, we'll have to do that."

"We will," he said, making it sound like a vow.

"We better get to work."

"Let's start with your list."

Three hours later, my head was pounding, and my eyes were starting to blur with fatigue, reminding me how little sleep I'd gotten the night before. We'd gone over every person I knew who'd had a relationship with Paige, but the more we talked and the more questions Colton asked, the more I realized how little I knew about some of those people and how often I couldn't answer his questions.

"I don't think I've been as helpful as I thought I would be," I said at the end.

"You've been great." He paused as he got a call and picked up his phone. "Barclay." He listened for a few moments, then said, "Okay. Thanks." He set his phone back on the table. "Officers made contact with Margaret Lawrence. She's a retired school librarian who had knee replacement surgery five weeks ago. Answered the door on a walker, offered the officers banana bread, and was very confused about why anyone cared about her car, which is sitting in her garage with a layer of dust on the hood and a handicap placard on the mirror. It hasn't moved in five weeks. Her daughter's been driving her to physical therapy."

"Then how was her car outside my hotel?"

"It wasn't. It's called plate cloning. If you want to drive around doing things cameras shouldn't see, you don't steal a car, because a stolen car gets reported and then every plate reader in three counties lights up when you pass one. Instead, you find a car that matches yours, the same make, model, color, and you copy its plate. Order a duplicate online, stamp one yourself, doesn't matter. Bolt it on, and now your car is wearing another car's identity."

"I had no idea you could do that. Whoever followed Morgan is very clever."

"Yeah," he murmured, a thoughtful gleam in his gaze. "Very clever. Maybe professional."

"As in car thief?"

"And killer."

"You think it's the same person who killed Cabot?"

"I don't know, but I'm less inclined to believe it was Professor Hale. Although, he has money and connections. He could have hired someone to do his dirty work."

"He has never seemed like a man who likes to get his hands dirty," I murmured. "You need to interrogate him."

"I will bring him in, but I doubt he'll say anything without a lawyer, so I need to be smart about how I do it. Having more information would give me more ammunition. I have a team canvassing Vincent's neighborhood for anyone who saw anything. We'll see what that turns up tomorrow."

I couldn't hold back a yawn, and Colton smiled. "You're tired."

"Exhausted," I said. "I need to find a hotel and go to bed."

He shook his head. "I don't think you can make it that far. My cleaning service came today. Sheets are clean. You can take my bed. I'll take the couch."