Page 27 of Is Anyone Listening?
"We want to wait to post until tomorrow," Tessa replied. "Then we'll have another day in town before anyone realizes what we're up to. Do you want to be a part of it, Morgan? You can join us remotely."
"I can't. I'm sorry I'm letting you both down."
"You're not," I told her. "We'll talk tomorrow."
After we'd said goodbye, Tessa looked at me and said, "You don't want to leave yet, do you?"
"No."
"Good. Because I think if we're making people nervous, then we're doing something right."
"I hope so," I said as I stood up. "I'm going to get ready."
"I'll be over in a sec."
As I left her room, I realized my door was open. That was probably because I hadn't closed it when I ran out in shock. At least, I hoped that was the reason. I entered with trepidation, but nothing had changed in the past few minutes. I cleared off the desk and got us set up. Tessa came over a moment later with our lights and recording equipment. We put the camera on an easel so we could sit together on the edge of the bed and both be in the frame.
"Ready?" Tessa asked.
I nodded, then hit record.
"Hello everyone!" Tessa said. "Welcome to Mysteries Uncorked. As you know, Cassidy and I are in Stonecross, Maine, investigating the disappearance of Natalie Warren. We talked to a lot of people today, and one thing we learned is that Natalie is not the first or only woman to leave the inn and never be seen again."
As Tessa talked about what we'd discovered so far, my stomach tightened. We were crossing a line that we couldn't uncross. People in Stonecross and at this inn would hate what we were saying, but it had to be said, so I pushed my uncertainty aside.
I'd spent most of my life worrying about what someone else would think, whether I was pushing too hard, whether I was doing the right thing, and I had to stop. I couldn't live my life avoiding difficult conversations or confrontations. I'd always wanted to be a journalist, and I had the opportunity to do that now. I needed to push back against whoever was trying to intimidate us, and that started now.
As Tessa paused, I took over. "While we haven't gotten a lot of hard clues, as Tessa mentioned, we're clearly making someone nervous. When we returned to the inn tonight after dinner, we discovered that both of our rooms had been searched." I looked directly into the camera. "But we're not going to be scared away. Natalie Warren was thirty years old. She came to this inn looking for peace, for wellness, for a reset. And then she was gone. Her family deserves to know what happened to her. And if other women have disappeared from this place, their families deserve answers too."
"Before we sign off," Tessa added, "we're going to give you a look at the room where Natalie stayed during what might have been the last days of her life."
I maneuvered the camera to take a panoramic view of the room and then brought it back to us. Then I said, "As you can see, it's a charming room in a beautiful bed and breakfast on the Maine coast… But is it also the last place where Natalie was safe?" I paused, feeling unsettled by my own question. "We're going to try to find out."
"And you're going to come along with us," Tessa added. "Until next time…"
I turned off the camera. Done.
"That was good," Tessa said. "The best one we've done yet." She took the camera off the easel and then focused it on the bed. "I want to post a photo of the bed with a teasing caption: See where Natalie slept before she disappeared. Why don't you set the podcast to release at eight o'clock tomorrow night?"
"What if we find out more before then?"
"We can adjust. But at least we have something locked. I'm tired. And I need a bath. Are you going to be okay here by yourself, Cassidy? Do you want me to stay?"
"No, I'll be fine. Whoever was in here already knows what's here. I don't think they'll come back."
"I'm going to leave everything here, since this is where we'll want to record from," Tessa said, heading to the door with just her phone in hand. Then she stopped abruptly. "What's this?" She leaned down and picked up a piece of paper that looked like it had been slipped under the door. Her face went pale as she read it.
"What is that?" I asked impatiently.
She handed it to me without a word.
The message was written in block capitals, the letters harsh and angular:
LEAVE BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE
I sucked in a quick breath. This wasn't just someone poking through our things anymore. This was a threat.
"It must have been slipped under the door while we were filming," Tessa said. "Does this change your mind, Cassidy?"
