Page 17 of My Killer Blind Date

Now it’s my turn not to respond.

‘It’s been six months, and we have no leads,’ he continues. ‘The case will stay open, of course. But I won’t be allocating resources to it unless new evidence turns up.’

‘But there aren’t no leads. I literally just called you with—’

‘I appreciate your tip, but I’m going to be brutally honest with you. My department is already strapped for resources. First, we don’t even know if there’s been a crime. Zoe might have just walked away from her life. Some people don’t want to be found. And while I appreciate you calling me about this guy, a tattoo? A Northwestern grad? A vibe? It’s just not enough for me to follow up on.’ His tone is one of compassion, which makes it a hundred times worse. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to deliver this news.’

But she deserves justice! The words bunch in my throat; I can’t seem to speak them. I want to say a thousand things. Don’t patronize me! Zoe is a human being! Something horrible happened to her! But all I manage to eke out is, ‘But this is your job!’

‘I understand your frustration, but there’s no body. No evidence at all that any crime was committed. And she’s not a minor. It’s not illegal to disappear—’

I disconnect the call, my heart raging in my chest, because I can’t stand it – the empathetic act, the gaslighting. He doesn’t care. No one does.

I drop my head to the counter and just breathe.

It really is all on me now. They’re not even going to help any more.

After a moment, I tilt my head back, take another deep breath and try to recenter.

I take my first long sip of coffee. Then I pop it back into the microwave to restore it to piping-hot.

OK. Fine. So the Chicago Police Department is letting the investigation go. That just means I need to amp up my own efforts.

As the microwave spins my coffee, I tap my foot and force myself to mentally review everything I know about her last day.

We both woke up early. I made us coffee and checked the news. Crystal Cole’s body had just been found, so I mentioned that, and told her that based on the similarities to Kayleigh’s death, this meant a serial killer was on the loose. Zoe didn’t seem very interested, but she’d always been a slow waker-upper.

We walked to the train together. She asked me to spot her a twenty because she was getting lunch with her coworker. I got home around five. She arrived at six. I’d splurged on takeout in preparation for our Love is Blind watch-a-thon, so when she told me she was headed out on a date, it was a double blow. She put on makeup. Told me those three details about the guy. We fought. She left.

As I eat my oatmeal, I redirect my thoughts to last night’s date and the three eerie similarities between Zoe’s mystery guy and Liam. Tattoo in Latin, Chicago born and bred, Northwestern alum.

No – four. I can’t forget there was something about him that was ‘a little too perfect.’

The detective dismissed it as vibes, but these aren’t vibes. This is a true lead. I feel it deep in my gut.

I can’t ignore it – but what do I do? Stake out Liam myself? Sleuthing on Reddit is one thing. Putting myself in close proximity to a potential killer is another.

I have to speak to Devin today, no matter what, and figure out what he and Zoe talked about over lunch. Or more importantly, who, since it would be the most natural thing in the world for her to chat about her date later that evening. And if Devin remembers the name of the guy she was going to see, bingo. Barnett couldn’t ignore that.

*

I glance at my phone as I exit the station. Ugh. Only about twenty texts from George asking about last night’s date. I scan the most recent one.

Heyyyy girl, so fyi, Liam texted Arjun to see if you were all right? He said you left in a hurry??? If Liam was a dick, I swear to God Arjun will never get laid again!!!!!!!!!!!!

Prickles move up my neck. I’m not sure how I feel about Liam going through Arjun to check on me. But I do know I’m not ready to tell George anything about my suspicions. She’d think I went off the deep end once and for all, and I don’t need any more accusations of being a codependent downer. I type quickly.

Hey, date was great! What does Arjun know about this guy? Need the deets. Lots of potential!!!!

Then I notice the time.

‘Shit,’ I mutter.

Late. I’d better bring an apology gift, because I am not trying to get fired today.

Chapter Six

‘Coffee?’ I extend the tray with four coffees toward the funeral home receptionist, Elsie Wu. She’s dwarfed behind the giant oak desk and the behemoth computer. Her cramped little office sits off the main foyer of the funeral home. I smile as widely as I can and try not to resent her for taking the job I wanted.