Page 35 of Distress Signal

“Yeah, she’s great. Came in here three nights in a row. Told me she was a photographer and owned a business with her sister. Wait.” He paused, eyes brightening as realization struck. “You’re the sister.”

“Sure am. And look…” I leaned closer, dropping my voice so only we could hear. “I don’t want to raise any alarms, but Lainey iswhy I’m here. She’s kind of MIA, and I need to track her down.” His eyes widened. “Do you remember the last time you saw her?”

“Monday night,” he said quickly, a flush creeping into his cheeks. He had to be in his early twenties, several years younger than my and Lainey’s thirty years. “Sorry. We don’t get a lot of fresh faces around here, and definitely not ones that look like you guys.”

I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. The complimentwasflattering, if poorly timed. “Did you guys chat or anything?”

“Yeah, we talked a bit while she waited for her food. She told me why she was in town, where she was from. That’s pretty much it. She said she’d be back on Tuesday to tell me how she liked the blueberry pizza, but I didn’t see her again. She’s missing?”

I nodded. “I last heard from her on Tuesday.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he said. Someone called his name—Trevor—from the back, and he gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, duty calls.”

“No problem, and thanks,” I said, mind already going a thousand miles a minute away from the current conversation.

I took a seat on the wooden bench affixed to the wall off to the side, pulled out my phone, and opened a new Note.

Lainey likely last seen at the Swallow Tuesday night, I tapped out.

I knew that much for a fact, seeing as how she told me she wanted to check the place out “for old time’s sake.”

Well, and that was the last place she’d been active on Find My Friends. Shortly after she sent her final text, she went dark, disappearing completely from view. I’d hoped her phone had merely died, but obviously, that wasn’t the case.

My fingers flew across the keyboard as I wrote down everything I knew so far, including when she’d arrived in Dusk Valley nearly two weeks ago—coming out way earlier than necessary todo some hiking so she could come home right after the sessions—the names of our clients, and the date and time the two separate shoots were set to begin. I wasn’t an investigator by any means, but I owed Lane everything I knew that could help.

“Reagan?” a voice said softly, jarring me from my task. I looked up to find Trevor standing over me, two pizza boxes stacked in his hands. “You’re all set.”

“Thanks,” I said, jumping to my feet and accepting my order.

He nodded. “And I hope you find Lainey.”

“Me too. And hey,” I added, digging into my purse for a business card, “if you remember anything else, give me a call.”

“Will do.”

He disappeared into the back again, and I pushed outside, heading back to the motel.

An hour, a shower, and way too many slices of pizza later—Trevor had been right; the blueberry, feta, and ham concoctionwaslife changing—I sat on the bed, both my and Lainey’s laptops open in front of me.

Ice slid down my spine when I pulled up the iMessage app on her laptop and read that final missive and my responding texts, which had been unread until now, confirming my suspicions.

TUESDAY, 10:41 PM

ME

I think he’s here.

REAGAN

Who?

Your stalker?

Lainey???

LAINEY!!!

When my messages had gone unanswered, I’d called.