This Story Might Save Your Life(76)

I go deeper, and deeper, but she keeps shaking her head. Even when I’m up to my waist in the earth, she remains unsatisfied. “Deeper,” she says.

When I wake, I’m covered in sweat. It takes me a minute to realize I’m still in my bed, in the shelter, and not digging a human-sized hole in my neighbor’s yard. But even after the sweat is dry, I’m still thinking about Carlotta.

I knew nothing about horticulture when I started gardening with her. She taught me the basics of soil pH, pollination, drainage, companion planting, pruning. She was a good teacher. Patient. Motherly.

“Do you have kids?” I asked one day. I’d never seen any visit, but I figured she must.

“No.” She snipped off a knobby green cucumber and placed it in her mesh basket. “We tried, but no.”

I turned to her, tomatoes in both hands, to tell her I understood. But somehow, the moment I met her eyes, I felt she already knew.

“It’s nice of you, helping me with this,” she said. “Emil likes to have his hands in pretty much everything but soil.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “He does seem to keep busy.”

She tapped her nose twice. “It’s the cancer. Ever since it came back, he’s kicked it into high gear with the side hustles. I have the pension, not as much as it would’ve been if I hadn’t retired early, but you know how it is. Even with health insurance, five years of illness starts to add up.”

“I get it,” I said with a knowing nod. “Xander’s provider instinct is pretty intense as well.”

“Hm.” She studied me for a second. “Speaking of, I keep meaning to ask—has Xander mentioned anything about a project with Emil?”

I twisted another tomato off the vine. The men had been friendly for months, ever since Xander hired Emil as his trainer, but I told her no. Not that I was aware. “Why?”

Carlotta waved it off. “Forget about it. I must’ve heard Emil wrong. You would know.”

I wasn’t sure that was true. Regardless, the conversation was over. She handed me a basket, filled to the brim with that day’s pickings, and sent me on my way.

But I didn’t forget about it. I thought a lot about that conversation over the coming months as my world grew smaller. Because it turned out Xander and Emil did have a project.





Benny Abbott


Day Five

Sarah and I sit at the kitchen table with our laptops open, uneaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches hardening beside us, dogs at our feet. Outside, the moon rises over the reporters lining my sidewalk.

“When I asked Mallory why she gave Keller the missing episode, she said it was because she didn’t know who to trust. And I’ll admit, it seemed true at the time. But what if it was all an act? What if she was purposely trying to throw Keller off the scent?”

Sarah’s head angles back. “You think she killed her own brother?”

“I wouldn’t have thought it possible until a few hours ago. But maybe. Or maybe she’s hiding something for Quinn.” I run my hands through my hair. One of the dogs licks my leg. “And what was that about Emil? Quinn said after that shit with Ted and Emil went down, Xander threatened to take the money away. What does that mean? What does Emil have to do with it?”

“You said he sold Xander the MG?”

“Yeah, but what does that have to do with Ted?”

“No clue.” Sarah drums her fingers on the table. “Back to Mallory. Let’s narrow things down. What else does she have access to?”

“Everything—our cloud files, our website, our bookkeeping. You name it.”

“Website,” Sarah repeats. “When’s the last time you looked at your website?”

“We handed that stuff over to the detectives on…” It takes me a second. “Thursday morning.”

“But you still have access to it, right?”

I nod.

“I was just thinking … you said she tried to talk you out of posting the episode asking for help.”

I bite my lip. “Do you think she could be deleting leads?”

Sarah watches as I wake up my laptop, click through to our home page, and sign in as administrator. We read through a couple dozen tips, but it almost instantly feels futile. I have no idea what we’re looking for. There’s no way to know if any of this has been tampered with.

Defeated, I log out. Reflexively, I sign in to our submissions page, where listeners write in their stories. I’m surprised to see nearly two hundred entries from the last five days, despite everything that’s been going on. Scrolling through them, I scan posts about everything from haunted houses to sink holes. Two-thirds of the way down the list, a post catches my eye.

When I open it, my lungs fill with air.

Under the title “I Survived an Abusive Spouse” is one word.

“Ayyy,” it reads, followed by two thumbs up.



* * *



SARAH AND I hug for a long time.

“Should we tell Keller?” she asks.

“Yes.” I break away and wipe my face with my sleeve. “No. Yes? What if it’s just a coincidence?”

“You know it’s not.”

She’s right. My heart is swelling with hope. I need it to be her. It has to be her. But where is she? And why is she hiding?