Page 74 of My Killer Blind Date

‘We’ll have to come back soon. Next week is out for me, but maybe the following?’ says Liam as he pops the trunk.

The cabin is locked up and we’re leaving. Liam seemed disappointed that I had to get back to the city so quickly, but he hasn’t resisted.

‘George’s wedding,’ I mumble as I sling my backpack into the trunk next to Liam’s. He closes the trunk.

‘Oh, right!’ He leans against the car, looking dreamy, content. ‘Then maybe the next. It’s so perfect out here in the summer. Maybe we can stay for two or three nights next time. I can cook you a proper meal, not just eggs and charcuterie. And we can walk to the point. And maybe drive into Sheboygan for dinner. They have a pizza place that will blow your mind. That’s a promise.’

‘Can we just get going?’ I snap, because I am not indulging in his twisted little fantasies. Is that when he’d kill me? The second time?

‘Sure. Also, this is a new side to you. Cranky Margot.’ He grins. ‘I like it.’

He’s trying to be cute, but I refuse to meet his eyes.

We both climb into the car. Liam gives me the side eye as he starts the engine.

‘Everything OK?’

‘Why?’

‘You seem … off.’ He reverses down the gravel driveway and out on to the private road. I’ll definitely breathe easier once we’re on a main thoroughfare. And once I make sure we’re really headed back to Chicago. If he tries to take me to another location, I’ll jump out of the car, even if I end up breaking all my bones. Better than being smothered, frozen and dumped.

‘Was it last night?’ He flickers a look at me, then back to the road. We turn out of the private drive and on to the paved road. ‘If I did anything you didn’t like …’

You mean murdering my friend?

‘Sorry to be rude, but I’m really tired,’ I say stiffly. ‘I’d prefer not to talk right now.’ I pull out my phone and angle my body toward the window. I hold my phone up, willing at least one bar to come back. That’ll make me feel at least fifty per cent safer.

‘Yeah, no problem,’ he says, but when I steal a glance, I can tell his feelings are hurt.

Whatever. The guy’s a serial killer.

The next twenty minutes pass in tense silence. I have my purse full of weapons, and I will not hesitate to use them if there is a single reason to.

Then, suddenly, one bar! Bingo. Two, three. Notifications flood my screen – a few texts, and my own news alerts.

There’s that influencer thing again … the same alert I remember seeing on Liam’s phone last night. I swipe it open and immediately recognize the name. Brooke Walsh. I’m pretty sure I follow her. I had a brief kick with sourdough bread and Brooke’s tutorials were everything. I scan the article.

Candlelit vigil for missing Chicago tradwife influencer draws thousands

If you haven’t heard the name Brooke Walsh, perhaps you’ve been living under a rock. A self-proclaimed ‘urban tradwife,’ Brooke’s Instagram account has exploded in recent years, garnering over a million followers for her content about cooking, raising chickens and doing her laundry by hand in her small city bungalow in Chicago’s Jefferson Park neighborhood.

Two thousand of her fans gathered Saturday night to hold a vigil and pray for her safe return. Brooke’s husband Michael Walsh was the first to sound the alarm. While away on a hunting trip in Alaska, he became concerned when Brooke didn’t call at their usual time in the evening. When a neighbor confirmed she wasn’t home, he immediately booked a flight back to Chicago. After filing a missing person report, Mr Walsh has offered a ten-thousand-dollar reward for any information that leads to finding Brooke …

Chills race up my arms. Another disappeared woman from the North Side of Chicago. And right on time – it’s been six months.

I glance sideways at Liam’s profile. His expression is neutral, his eyes focused on the road.

It has to be him.

I try to reconstruct the timeline as we speed through Milwaukee. If she’s been missing for only a couple days, when did he kidnap her? Maybe the morning of George’s party – or could it have been the night before? But where did he stash her? At his condo? Or – oh God – somewhere close to the cabin? Did he take me out there so that he could keep an eye on Brooke? Is she still alive? Or did he murder her while I was napping on the couch? There was a small shed, I’m now remembering it – I saw it as we drove in. I never looked inside it. Stupid.

‘Thinking deep thoughts?’ says Liam, his tone light, obviously trying to build a bridge.

‘Just spacing out.’ I focus my stare out the window, trying to hold myself together.

Are the strange smells in his condo more than just sauerkraut and kimchi after all? Are the screams really his upstairs neighbor? Why did I believe that so quickly? The minutes and the miles tick by as my mind races through various scenarios and a whole host of self-recriminations.

Finally, as we breach the city limits of Chicago, I glance over at Liam. ‘Do you have more vacation homes, or just the cabin?’