Rachel Lawrence
“Okay. See you at the office in ten minutes.” I ended the call and tried to wipe the ridiculous grin from my face.
This was not how I’d envisioned things playing out when John Tucker parked his Camry in our little town two weeks prior and my boss at the paper introduced me as his “partner” for his journalistic investigation.
It had been four years since Cora West was last spotted heading this direction on the highway, and most of the news outlets had given up long ago, along with the baffled law enforcement agencies. But every few months, we’d still have some eager young reporter show up, convinced he could crack the case. Terrance, my managing editor, always assigned them to me, and I prided myself on the fact that I could get rid of them in less than a week.
But this time was different, and I wasn’t as bothered about it as I should’ve been.
John was quiet and kind and thoughtful. He seemed to value people over hot takes. He asked questions others never thought to, the insightful kind that made me reflect on my own life and what I wanted from it. And he made me laugh—something I hadn’t done enough of lately. It didn’t hurt that he had killer dimples either.
I grabbed my keys. The newsroom was only a few blocks away, easily walkable, but I didn’t want to waste a single second. I’d have to say goodbye soon enough, so I might as well enjoy listening to John’s swoony voice rattle off his latest theory before I dispelled it and sent him on his way.
When I pulled into my regular spot, John was already leaning against the building, a grin on his face and two coffees and my heart in his hands. “Morning, Marianne. Sorry to drag you out on a Saturday. Maybe this will make up for it?”
He offered me a paper cup, and I bit back the urge to tell him he was welcome to drag me anywhere on any day of the week if he’d keep smiling at me like that.
“So you’ve found the answers that have eluded me my entire career?” I teased as I unlocked the door and led us inside to my cubicle. “Are we ready to write the article that will skyrocket us both to success?”
He sat. His dimples faded, and his tone turned serious. “I think I’m onto something for real, Mare,” he whispered. “I interviewed Mr. Hayes about the car they found in the woods that day and Mrs. King about the conversation she had in the convenience store with the woman who fit the description. Then I reviewed my notes from the sheriff’s office. The pieces are all there.”
I smiled, hesitant to burst his bubble, and settled in close enough that our knees touched. “I know this story is important to you, John. I remember when it was all I could think about. But the fact is: some mysteries will never be solved.”
“I’d agree with that. And the fact that sometimes the best stories are the ones we find along the way, the ones we didn’t go looking for.” His soft words settled in my chest and jumbled my thoughts. “But the more I talk to people around here, the more I realize that their stories are just too similar.”
“Too . . . similar?”
“I’ve devoured everything I could get my hands on about Cora West, and every single account has painted her as a con artist, romancing wealthy men and then moving on after convincing them to donate money to her favorite causes. But no one in this town could say a negative thing about her. Do you know what Mr. Hayes called her?” He set his coffee cup aside. “A modern-day Robin Hood. Pretty bold judgment for someone who doesn’t know the woman, huh?”
He shifted closer, and my heartbeat stuttered.
“Everyone’s stories line up seamlessly, leading anyone who asks to believe that Ms. West did in fact pass through here on her way to disappearing forever. Which is suspicious enough in the first place. But why would Mr. Hayes be defending her? Unless . . .”
I bit my lip. Perhaps he was onto something after all. “Unless what?”
“Unless she spent more time here than they’re willing to admit. Unless she conned the whole town into thinking she was a misguided philanthropist with a good reason to want to steal from the rich to help other kids like the little brother she lost. Or.” He paused for effect. “Unless she really isn’t a terrible person at all and just wanted a fresh start, a chance to heal and remember what real love feels like. I don’t know. What do you think, Cora?”
Instead of my usual instinct to run, sudden tears caught me by surprise as he tenderly wrested the coffee cup from my trembling fingers, replacing its warmth with his hands.
“The second one,” I croaked.
“I thought so.” He tightened his grip. “Which wasn’t the case when I first came up with this conjecture weeks ago and figured the best way to catch someone who baited her targets with irresistible flirting was to do it myself while confirming my suspicions.”
“So you’re aware of the effect those dimples have then?” Even as my heart crumbled, I automatically deflected with a playful quip.
“I was relying on their charm to disarm you. But I wasn’t counting on actually falling for you.”
My head snapped up. “What?”
He chuckled nervously. “Maybe I’m just another idiot you’re manipulating, but—”
I shook my head. “I’ve never felt like this about anyone. It’s terrifying.” I tried to reconcile these admissions with my long-kept secrets. “But what now?”
“Think Terrance would give me a job here? We could write something new together?”
“I’d like that.”
He cupped my cheek and leaned in. His eyes searched my face.
And I finally let myself be found.
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