This Story Might Save Your Life(12)

“What’s this week about?” Price asks.

I tell them.

“Whales,” Price says, deadpan. “This is supposed to be funny?”

It’s clear I need to explain. “It’s about the delivery.” I shrug. “There’s a lot of ad-libbing.”

“Huh.” Expressionless, Keller turns to Mallory. “And what’s your role?”

“Assistant producer.” Mallory swallows. “I do some audio engineering. Scheduling. I coordinate the remote staff. That kind of thing.”

“Remote staff?” Keller asks. “What kind of remote staff?”

Mallory counts them off on her fingers: “Research assistant, merch team, webmaster, and social media manager. All part-time.”

“Have any of them been unhappy lately? Anyone ask for a raise they didn’t get, anything like that?”

I cut a questioning glance at Mallory.

“No,” Mallory says firmly.

“Any fights with family? Money problems?”

“I wouldn’t say problems, exactly.” I rub the back of my neck, aware that my hand has begun to tremble. “We’ve been in negotiations for a pretty significant distribution deal with Apex Plus, and it’s been dragging out, so that’s been stressful.”

A flicker of surprise passes over Keller’s lined face. “The Apex Plus?”

Nodding, I briefly explain that the entertainment conglomerate is expanding its purview, hoping to make a big splash in the podcasting pool with a few chart-topping names.

“Chart-topping, huh?” Keller says. “How significant a deal are we talking?”

I watch Mallory flatten herself against the wall. “In the eight-figure range,” I say.

Keller coughs. I can see the wheels turning in Price’s head as he works through all those zeros.

“Low? High?” Keller says when she recovers.

“Thirty.”

“Million?” Price asks.

I nod.

Keller lets out a long, throaty whistle.

It’s a shocking number, I’ll be the first to agree. When they presented the deal a few months ago, my eyes bugged straight out of my head. But it’s since been one delay after the other, and I’m beginning to wonder if it will actually happen. Doubt is easier to hold on to than hope. “We’re still negotiating.”

“And yet Joy wants to take a break from the podcast.”

I confirm this with a miserable shrug.

“I’m sorry,” Price says, shaking his head. “This ad-libbing … this whale stuff. This is worth thirty million dollars?”

“People love them,” Mallory says. “They have fans with a capital F.”

“About that.” I clear my throat, ready to move on. When I asked Joy why she wanted to take a break from the podcast, she insisted it had nothing to do with the topic I’m about to broach. But that was then, and now she’s missing, and I can no longer convince myself the two are not related. Watching Keller open a dresser drawer, I say, “Joy has a stalker.”

Keller shuts the drawer and crosses her thin arms. I have her full attention now.

“We don’t know who he is, but he claims to be our biggest fan. Every time she leaves the house, there will be ten pictures of her just … you know. Buying bread or whatever.”

“Where, the tabloids?”

I shake my head. “Socials.”

I explain that we block him without fail, but it does nothing to deter him. He just changes his account. And then another ten pictures will show up the following day. “Could be my neighbor Ted. He’s a paparazzo, and he took a pretty unflattering video of Joy that went viral six weeks ago.” My chest swells with anger at the memory. “But that was the only time we ever caught him in the act.”

“And you’ve never seen anyone else? No other cameras, no other paparazzi?”

“People have taken pictures of us before, sure, but this is different. This is…” I search for the word. “Unrelenting.”

“And these photos—they’re just Joy? There are no pictures of you?”

“Xander’s in them sometimes. But yeah. Ninety percent of the time, it’s just Joy.”

“Have you reported this to the police?”

“Xander has,” I say. “Multiple times. But nothing’s ever come of it. They say it doesn’t fit the definition of harassment or something.”

Keller’s eyes run all over the bedroom, then return to me. “And no images have gone up since she disappeared?”

“None.”

“Interesting.”

I nod, although interesting isn’t the word I would choose. “There’s one other thing.” I feel like we’re already getting into the weeds, but I would be remiss to not bring it up. “A few months ago, one of our ad partners got in trouble for shipping out toxic food. An energy shake company. Something in the protein powder was making people sick.”

“How sick?”

“Very sick.” Hanging my head, I explain that dozens of consumers landed in the hospital with toxin poisoning. And even though we had no idea we were promoting a harmful product, not a clue, people blamed us just the same. “We’re survival podcasters, you know? We had to issue public apologies, find new ad partners. It got pretty ugly.”