“Yes, a pickup truck, but—”
“For the next couple of days, don’t take the bus. Change your routine. Drive to campus. Take Uber. Go with Troy. Don’t walk the same path to classes. Don’t eat in the same place, don’t go to the same coffee shop. Change your habits—at least until I can find out more information. You can’t be too careful. Agreed?”
“I guess. But why? Do you think this is serious?”
“Part of my job was threat assessment. On the surface, this doesn’t seem to rise to that level, but I want to be cautious. You might consider informing Detective Young, even though the note is vague. Get it on record in case it escalates. He might be able to ask patrol to drive by your place a couple times a day, make sure everything is okay. Tell Troy about it, too, just so he can keep his eyes open.”
“If you think it’s necessary.”
“Personal security is always important. Just be careful. You’re beginning to grow on me.” She smiled, trying to make the conversation lighter so Lucas didn’t get too freaked out. She recognized that her time as a marshal made her see the world through different lenses. Personal security had become part of her life, a part that had become so routine she barely noticed.
But even being smart, safe, and cautious couldn’t protect everyone every minute of the day. She was a testament to that.
“Do you think Taylor James did this?” Lucas asked. “I mean, you talked to her this morning about the podcast. Maybe she knows where I live.”
Possible, she thought. She opened the baggie with the note again and smelled deeply.
“What are you doing?” Lucas asked, his nose wrinkling.
“Taylor is a chain-smoker. Anything she touches would likely smell of nicotine. She seemed jumpy, agitated, angry to me. Defeated. Clearly she’s not living the life she expected after graduating. I don’t smell anything.” She paused, considered. “But still I’ll talk to her again. Do you mind if I check your windows and locks?”
“Go ahead.”
She walked Lucas through basic home security measures. She wasn’t sold that the note was a threat, but it was odd, and clearly geared to discourage Lucas from continuing the podcast.
Lucas agreed to meet her at Marcy’s Grill at seven, then Regan and her dad left.
Back in her truck, John said, “You might want to hand this all over to Detective Young.”
“You and I both know that the police won’t do anything. They can’t. There’s no connection between a vague threat to Lucas and me talking to Taylor James, or even directly to his podcast. The police have sat on this case for three years. And after my conversation with Young today, barring any physical evidence linking another suspect to Swain’s murder, his hands are tied. Other cases, other priorities.”
Her father conceded that three years put the case at the bottom of the inactive pile. “But,” he said, “while I trust your instincts, something Lucas said on the podcast—or you, last night—may have rattled Candace Swain’s killer, if he’s still in the area. You’re on the right track...but are you going to find the answers before the killer panics?”
She didn’t know. “Friday night’s podcast will be very interesting. I’m going to have Lucas lay all his cards on the table and see what happens.”
And if they did that, she would have to stick close to him, in case they did ruffle the wrong feathers. Which meant she’d have to cancel her hike with Jessie in Sedona. Her best friend was not going to be happy.
From the Missing Journal of Candace Swain
Erica Jong said, “I have not ceased being fearful, but I have ceased letting the fear control me.”
I am so scared. Not about doing the right thing, not anymore. I am in control of my decisions for the first time in years. I will no longer be manipulated, lied to, plied with guilt about how doing the right thing is wrong. Told that up is down, right is wrong, wrong is right. I’m so tired.
I am scared that they will stop me. But the only way they can stop me is to kill me.
Twenty-Two
Lucas couldn’t sleep.
Finally, after midnight, he climbed into his old pickup truck and drove over to Taylor James’s house. Regan was confident that Taylor hadn’t sent the threat to him, so he didn’t feel particularly scared to confront her, especially at this hour.
He never told his advisor his real motivation behind the podcast but justified that omission by knowing it was for the right reason. To find the truth.
He should have manned up, as his brother used to tell him when he was indecisive, and confronted Taylor months ago. But being run out of her bar had intimidated him, and the podcast idea seemed much safer—and smarter.
Most bars closed by midnight during the week, and he hoped to catch her when she was coming home. He’d thought about coming in the morning, before his breakfast with Regan, but if she had been working until late he didn’t want to wake her up as it would probably make her less likely to talk.
He turned into her neighborhood, narrowly missing a Jeep driving with only the fog lights on. He flashed at the driver—they were going to get someone killed. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw that the driver flicked on his lights.
Lucas drove slowly past Taylor’s house. One light was on in the back of the house, but that didn’t mean she was home. Lucas’s mom didn’t like coming home to a dark house and always left the stove light on. He turned around in a gravel driveway down the street and looked for a place to park where Taylor might not be able to see him when she came home. Then he saw a car in her carport, behind the house. Dammit, she was home; would she even answer the door this late?
He had to try.
Lucas parked in front of her house and got out. He’d been thinking about how to approach her on the drive over, and thought he should tell her who he was and then tell her everything he knew about Candace and why he thought she’d been killed.