Page 40 of My Killer Blind Date

He laughs, but it’s not a nice sound. ‘Sorry – I thought you suspected him. Now you’re defending him?’

‘It’s one bouquet. I’m just being rational.’

‘Is it rational to tell a suspect where you work?’ Devin lifts a brow. ‘Did you tell him your home address too?’

My pulse launches into a sprint. Did I tell Liam where I worked? Shit.

‘I’m not stupid,’ I snap. ‘He has no idea where I live. But yes, I told him where I work. It’s not a state secret.’

‘You’re playing with fire,’ says Devin, but in a calm, almost compassionate voice, which just pisses me off even more.

I hate that in a way, he’s right. I am playing with fire. But only because no one else is willing to. What am I supposed to do, when no one else cares about justice? Hole up in my pumpkin shell like freaking Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater’s wife, which, by the way, what the hell was that nursery rhyme about?

‘I care, Devin.’ My voice betrays me by cracking. ‘I don’t know what else to tell you.’

‘I wish you’d let it go. Let her go.’ He looks at me intently. ‘Trust me. It’s what she would’ve wanted.’

I don’t answer, but as he walks away, I realize the bouquet is trembling in my hands.

Because I definitely told Liam about my body-moving job. But did I say it was here, at Anderson & Pulaski?

Despite my bravado to Devin, I can’t actually remember.

Chapter Twelve

That evening, after changing into sweats and pulling on my fuzzy Christmas socks, I work the flowers into my Brita pitcher because it turns out that I don’t actually own a vase. Is that sad? Probably.

As my frozen lasagna heats in the microwave, I stare at the flowers, centered on the kitchen counter. Pretty. Bright. Expensive. But also … I sniff. Cloying. Over the top. Too much.

‘What’s your game, Liam?’ I ask the flowers as if expecting the calendulas to pipe up. They’re silent.

The microwave beeps, and soon I’m installed on the couch with my laptop and dinner for my nightly sleuthing. I push my phone to the side, purposefully ignoring the fresh text from George that reads, Triathlon training tomorrow??? Pls say yes!!!!

An hour of hot yoga is one thing. Biking and running and swimming for miles on end in ice-cold water is another.

Picking up the TV remote, I put on Mysteries of the Deep Ocean in the background while I center myself on the task at hand. First up, Kayleigh. I’ve scrolled through her Facebook before, but not super far back, not to mention I haven’t yet gone through all her friends to see if anyone strikes me as suspicious. That’ll take a while, but I know it’s a worthwhile time investment.

As I click and scroll, I look up from time to time as the documentary narrator drops a particularly riveting nugget. ‘… and of course, the blobfish, which has no bones. The only thing holding its body together is the force of the water …’

Like me, I think. Holding it together under the pressure of finding out what happened to Zoe.

What will happen when the search is over? When I find the truth?

‘… so when brought to the surface, its body simply collapses and dies … they cannot exist without the enormous pressure of the ocean.’

Well that just sounds fucking great.

Hours slip by, and it’s only the rumbles of hunger that remind me to take a bite of lasagna every now and then.

I do learn more about Kayleigh as I go. Though her Etsy offerings took over her Facebook feed for years, even further back she was posting a verse of the day. This is new information – she was religious. Deep in the recesses of her feed, she posted a sign I don’t recognize. I expand the image. Two infant footprints, one in pink and one in blue. A quick Google search tells me it’s the image on the pro-life flag.

Mmmm. Could Crystal be religious too? Harder to say, since she didn’t have social media besides LinkedIn. But Zoe certainly wasn’t – not to mention, she was vocally and ferociously pro-choice.

When I finally check the time, it’s midnight. Ugh. And still no email from the restaurant group about the Wine & Thistle security cam footage. I send a quick follow up to my first email, then tap over to Reddit and resume the conversation on my old thread.

Looking_for_Zoe Crystal Cole doesn’t have a huge online presence … does anyone know anything about her other than what’s on her LinkedIn?

I scoop out the last, cold bites of lasagna while I wait. Sure enough, a couple responses pop in. Gotta love the late-night true crime Redditors.