What They'll Say About Us

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Chapter 1

"Can you believe this is us?" I asked as the crowd filled every seat in the grand ballroom of the Chicago Merriman Hotel. After our true crime podcast, Mysteries Uncorked, had hit number one on the charts last month, we'd been asked to present the keynote kickoff speech for a two-day podcaster convention. 

The attention we'd received since solving the disappearance of a woman in Stonecross, Maine, had been even more than I'd imagined it would be. And my partners, Cassidy Clarke and Morgan Kent, were even more amazed than I was. We'd started the podcast for fun after all three of us had been laid off from a media company. Looking for jobs had been depressing. But talking about true crime while drinking wine had been a lot more fun. 

When we'd taken our show on the road to go to the scene of an actual crime, we'd found ourselves to be not only podcasters but also investigators. And bringing down a killer had captivated our viewers and quadrupled our audience. 

This was the kind of success I'd envisioned when I'd convinced Cassidy and Morgan to take the podcast to Stonecross Maine, but even I had been stunned by the level of our success. 

"There are so many people here, Tessa. I'm about to have a panic attack," Cassidy said.

I turned to the pretty brunette with the somewhat terrified expression on her face and said, "You'll be fine. You faced down a serial killer three months ago. This is a cakewalk." 

"Completely different, Tessa," Cassidy retorted.  

I smiled, then turned to look at the woman on the other side of me. Morgan Kent had dark-red hair and green eyes and was staring intensely at her note cards. "You know what you're going to say, Morgan. You've been practicing for days. Relax." 

"I can't. I don't like public speaking," Morgan said. "I wish I had half your confidence, Tessa. You were born for the stage." 

Morgan's words were unexpectedly painful. I'd thought I'd been born for the stage, too. But that was a dream that had vanished years ago. At that dark thought, I was thrilled when the moderator, Laurel Ramon, stepped onto the platform with a polished smile. She was a former newscaster who had recently gotten into podcasting. She'd volunteered to moderate our speech, because she said she was a huge fan. 

"Good morning, ladies," Laurel said. "I'll introduce each of you, and then you're going to take the microphone first, Tessa, is that correct?"

"Yes. I'll tell our origin story and hand off to Cassidy for her personal take on the Stonecross case. Morgan will finish up by discussing some of our other cases, and then we'll take questions."

"Any idea on your next big case?" Laurel asked with a hopeful smile. "I'm sure that will be the first question."

"We have some thoughts." I wasn't trying to be secretive, but we'd been arguing for days on where our next on-the-road podcast investigation should go and what case we should take, and we hadn't landed on the right case. It had to be dramatic and podcast-worthy, and a victim our audience could relate to. So far, we hadn't been able to agree on anything.

"Well, I can't wait to hear your talk, so let's get started."

As Laurel stepped up to the microphone, I put out a hand to each of my friends below the cover of the tablecloth, and we squeezed each other's fingers together in solidarity. Then it was time to begin. 

Laurel's intro was short and fun, saying our journey to becoming podcasters had gone through the unemployment line. That made our success seem attainable to everyone else in the audience.

"And now, I'd like to turn things over to Tessa Conway," Laurel said, stepping back.

I rose from my seat and moved to the podium. The lights were blinding, every seat filled, with some overflow people standing in the back. Even for me, it was a little daunting, and I couldn't imagine how Cassidy and Morgan were going to feel when it was their turn, but for the moment, it was all about me, and I had to kick this off in a big way, set the tone, draw the audience in. And I did that with a story…the way our podcast always began.

"Imagine being in your house," I said. "The place where you feel safe, but it's after midnight, and every tick of the clock seems exceptionally loud. The wind picks up. You hear sounds that could have a simple explanation: the branches of the tree next to your window blowing in the breeze, the old house settling, the dog barking next door because he sees a raccoon." I let my voice drop, feeling the hush of the crowd as they became captivated with my story. "But the sounds you're hearing aren't due to any of those innocent things, and that night might be your last. Would you call someone? What would you say? What would you do?" I let the questions hang in the air, loving when I could feel like I was holding the audience in the palm of my hand. 

And then I said, "That case will be featured next month on our podcast. I can't tell you the answers now, because the trial is about to begin. I can assure you that there will be plenty of twists to the story." I paused once more. "While you'll have to wait for that case, Cassidy is going to take you through our journey to Stonecross, which was the first time we'd taken the show on the road to the actual scene of a crime."

As I stepped down, Cassidy got up, taking my place at the microphone. She cleared her throat, her voice a little shaky as she began, but then she got into the story, talking about how shocking it was to have a true crime case actually become integrated with her personal life, her family, with secrets she'd never expected. She spoke about how terrifying it had been to go from podcaster to investigator to almost a murder victim. But the fact that they'd been able to find the truth about a missing woman had made everything worth it.

Morgan took over from there, and, unfortunately, she didn't have the same drama to share, and I could feel the audience's interest beginning to dim as Morgan talked about how our individual strengths made us a great team, and how we worked together, dividing up research, interviews, and outreach to investigators. Thankfully, her part of the speech was short. Then it was time for questions. 

As Morgan sat down, we faced the audience from the table as people lined up at the microphone in the middle of the aisle. Each person was more enthusiastic and complimentary than the last. It felt like we'd nailed the talk. We'd created energy and enthusiasm for the experience of podcasting and for our podcast. We passed the microphone back and forth, depending on the question, but I was the one holding it when a young man stepped up to ask the question that had been hounding us for weeks.

"Are you planning to take the podcast to the scene of another crime?" he asked. "You haven't been on the road since Stonecross. Was that just a one-off? Are you afraid to get that close to a crime again?" 

"We're definitely going back on the road, but we want it to be the right case, one we feel will connect with our audience and where we can make a difference," I said. 

A young woman behind him stepped up next, almost pushing him out of the way. As the lights captured her face, I felt an odd tug of recognition, but she was too far away for me to see her clearly. 

"I have a question for you, Tessa," she said. "If you're looking for the right case, one that's relatable to your audience, one where you can make a difference, what about the murder of a twenty-one-year-old girl at Northwestern nine years ago? A murder that has never been solved? A woman you knew personally? I'm sure you remember her name. Paige MacIntyre." 

My chest tightened as a rush of emotions swept over me. I could feel Cassidy and Morgan looking at me, but I couldn't turn my head, couldn't do anything but squint at the blurry figure at the microphone. Who the hell was she? "What did you say your name was?" I asked. 

"I didn't say," the woman replied. "And you didn't answer my question, Tessa."

I licked my lips, feeling like I was losing control of the audience, who were whispering to each other, sensing the drama of the moment. Finally, I said, "The death of Paige MacIntyre was ruled an accident. It's not an unsolved case. There's nothing to investigate." I looked to Laurel, who quickly stepped back up to the podium, reading my plea with a professional smile. 

"That's all the time we have for questions," Laurel said. "The next sessions begin in ten minutes. Please enjoy your day."

The lights came on, and the crowd began to disperse, but the woman at the microphone was walking straight toward us.

"What is she talking about?" Cassidy asked.

"Do we need to call security?" Morgan followed up. 

"No, it's fine." I grabbed my bag and then headed toward the stairs leading off the platform. 

"That was wonderful," Laurel said. "Nice job."

"Thanks," I replied shortly. 

As Cassidy and Morgan stopped to speak to Laurel, I made my way down the steps where the woman was now waiting. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, wearing a crop top over high-waisted, wide-legged cream-colored linen pants. She had light-brown hair and brown eyes and as I drew closer, I realized who she was, and that didn't make me feel any better.  

"You're Alina, aren't you? Paige's sister?" 

"So, you did recognize me."

"Not until now. I think you were about fifteen when I last saw you." 

"Sixteen, actually. I'm twenty-five now."

I barely heard her response. Her face, her eyes, made me feel like I was looking at a ghost. She wasn't an exact replica of her sister, but she was close, and Paige and I'd had a complicated relationship. I had no idea what Alina knew about that. Clearly, she had an opinion. She was also angry, and I tensed, quite sure I was not going to like what was coming.

"My sister's death was not an accident," Alina said hotly. "You know that, Tessa."

"I know that was the result of the investigation."

Alina shook her head in frustration. "You call yourself an investigator, a champion of people and families who need justice, but you're unwilling to help me, to help Paige, someone who was once your friend." 

I searched for the right thing to say. I'd had doubts about Paige's death, but to think or suggest it was anything but an accident wasn't a road I wanted to go down. My past was where it should be—behind me, and I didn't need to go back there. 

"You said you wanted a relatable case," Alina said, pushing against my silence. "What's more relatable than a young woman on the verge of graduating from college, losing her life with no explanation, no real answers? And you're already here. You don't have to travel. The personal connection will make your listeners even more interested. Plus, you'll have the added advantage of knowing many of the suspects."

My stomach churned at the gleam of hatred in Alina's eyes. "I had nothing to do with Paige's death."

"I didn't say you were one of the suspects, but interesting you went there yourself." 

I immediately regretted my words. 

Alina took a card out of her pocket and forced it into my hand. "You have to do this, Tessa. You owe Paige that much. Call me when you're ready to talk. Make it soon." She drew a breath. "It's been nine years, and my mother still can't stop asking why."

"No reason will bring Paige back," I said desperately.

"You can't bring her back, but you can get her justice. You can make the police and the public pay attention to her story. That's what you do, and according to your speech, you're very good at it. I'll be expecting your call."

As Alina walked away, Cassidy and Morgan moved in. 

"We need to talk," Morgan said quietly. "The next speaker is setting up. Let's go to our suite." 

I followed them out of the room and to the elevators, so distracted by my thoughts that I barely heard the people calling out hello or offering congratulations on our number one status. 

Cassidy and Morgan kept me between them as if they were my bodyguards, and I appreciated the support. I felt completely off-balance. I'd gone from feeling confident and successful to uncertain and even a little afraid. 

It was a relief to enter our luxury three-bedroom suite on the thirtieth floor, with a view of the city and the river, a perk that had come with our keynote address.  

As the heavy door closed behind us, I walked over to the windows, knowing that my friends had questions—questions I didn't particularly want to answer. As I looked out over the city, my mind flashed back to the past, to the first time I'd come to Chicago to see my aunt and tour Northwestern. I'd been so excited to get into their theater program. It had felt like the entire world was opening up to me. I was going to get my chance to be someone, to do something…even if I didn't know exactly what that something was. 

Morgan came up beside me and handed me a cold bottle of water from the fridge. 

"Drink," she ordered. 

I unscrewed the cap and took a long swig, happy with the cool liquid sliding down my parched and tense throat. "Thanks."

"Are you ready to talk?" Cassidy asked, coming up on my other side. 

"I'm not sure if I'm ready, but I'll talk." I walked away from the windows, taking a seat on one of the two couches that faced each other across a beautiful mahogany coffee table that held a basket filled with cookies and other treats, another perk of our recent success. I hated that I couldn't just enjoy all this, couldn't have gone from the keynote to the next workshop on my list, couldn't be diving into the conference with enthusiasm and energy. I was suddenly filled with anger and resentment. I had left my past behind. I didn't want it to be back now.

"Tessa," Cassidy said gently but purposefully as she and Morgan sat down across from me. "What was that woman talking about?"

"I was friends with a woman named Paige MacIntyre when I was a student at Northwestern. We were in theater together. A couple of months before graduation, she drowned in Lake Michigan. It was deemed an accident. She'd gotten drunk and was walking along the lake where there were slippery, treacherous rocks. The police believed that she stumbled and fell into the water, hitting her head in the process." 

"But her sister doesn't believe that's what happened," Morgan said. 

"Apparently not. Alina was in high school at the time. Her brother, Ray, was a sophomore at Northwestern where Paige was a senior."

"Why would Alina think it wasn't an accident?" Cassidy asked.

"No one could say where Paige was in the hours before her death. I think the last time anyone saw her or admitted to seeing her was around five o'clock Friday night. And she died sometime after midnight. The area where it was believed she went into the lake was off campus and fairly deserted. There were no witnesses, no cameras. Nothing. Her body was discovered on Sunday morning."

"What did you think about it?" Cassidy pressed, curiosity in her gaze.

"I didn't know what to think. Paige and I weren't particularly close at that time."

"What about motive?" Morgan queried. "Did Paige have a boyfriend? Did she have any enemies? Do you think she was involved in anything dangerous?" 

"She was all about the theater. She had the leading role in the spring production, and she spent long hours at rehearsal. She had a boyfriend, but as I recall, he had an alibi. He was out of town that weekend." 

As I finished talking, I saw Cassidy and Morgan exchange a look, and I frowned. "What? What are you thinking?"

"That you're talking as if you read about this in the newspaper, but you were in the theater with her, you knew her, how did you feel? What did you really think?" Cassidy challenged. "You're being distant and remote. You're not being you right now."

"I'm just telling you what happened. It was a long time ago."

"I agree with Cassidy. You're not telling us the whole story," Morgan said. "And you don't have to tell us, but let's not pretend you are." 

"I don't want to go back to that time of my life," I admitted. "It was hard. It was painful. Her tragic death made everything worse. It was a sad and scary time. We didn't know what was going on. Everyone was looking at each other with suspicion. Did someone know something and wasn't telling? Had someone killed her? It changed everything for all of us. We lived in a world of make-believe in the theater, and even in college, it was a life of fun and classes but very insular. We didn't feel part of the bigger world or even the bigger city. But Paige's death changed that. It was a reality we couldn't avoid." 

"That makes sense," Cassidy said. "And now you sound more like you." 

"I hate that Alina showed up here," I said with annoyance. "We had such a great keynote address. I didn't want it to end like that."

"It ended with drama, which isn't all bad," Morgan said. "Let's be real, Tessa, if this had happened to me or Cassidy, you would be jumping all over it. That woman gave us our next case. All those people in the audience will want to know what she was talking about. We'll have a built-in audience from day one."

"I don't want to do it. And we don't have time. We're only here until Wednesday."

"We could make time," Morgan said. "We're already here, and our travel costs were paid for by the convention."

"Morgan is right," Cassidy interjected. "People are going to be talking about what happened, and if we don't do it, someone else might. There are other true crime podcasters here. We don't want to lose our edge, and we have the advantage because you have a personal connection to the victim."

"Since when did you two become so marketing focused?" I grumbled.

A smile flashed through Cassidy's eyes. "We learned from the best, Tessa." 

"I don't want to get entangled in my past." I drew in a deep breath and let it out, knowing they needed more from me. "Paige and I were not friends when she died. We were rivals, maybe even enemies. We had competed for the same role in the play. She got it. I didn't. We had some words about that. A lot of people heard that argument. Paige thought I was being jealous and petty. I thought she was acting full of herself. It was stupid college girl drama, but after she died, I felt horrible. I wished I could have taken it all back."

"Did you get the part after she died?" Morgan asked. 

"Yes. And that made it worse. I tried to turn it down, but we were opening in two weeks, and I was the only one who knew the part. Everyone told me that I needed to step up. I had to do it. So, I did. But I didn't feel good about it. And I know some of Paige's friends thought I was cold and heartless for taking her part, especially since I'd told her she didn't deserve it."  

"Someone was going to take it," Cassidy put in. 

"Because of our drama, there were murmurings that suggested I'd killed her to get the part." 

"I'm sure no one actually believed that," Morgan said. 

"Maybe. Maybe not. But I don't want to go back there."

"That's fair," Cassidy said. "I understand your reservations now."

Despite Cassidy's words, I knew I was letting them down, and it wasn't only them I was disappointing; it was also myself. Why was I letting my past dictate my future?

Morgan pulled out her phone, reading her screen with a slowly increasing frown.

"What?" I asked. "What's the problem now?"

"I set alerts for comments on our keynote," Morgan replied, looking up with concern in her gaze. "As I suspected, people are talking about the next case, about whether we're going to look into the death of the woman you went to school with."

"I knew this was going to happen. As soon as Alina opened her mouth, I knew it."

"It's up to you," Morgan said. "If we do this, we do it together. This won't be all on you, Tessa."

"It will be on me because I have the personal connections. I'm the one who will have to take the lead. I'm just afraid…" 

"Afraid of what exactly?" Morgan asked. 

"I'm afraid that Alina believes her sister's killer is me, and that her challenge is to put me on the hot seat." 

"If that's true," Cassidy said, "then we have to do this. We have to find out if this was murder, and if it was, who did it? We need to control the narrative that Alina started. If we don't, who knows where it will go? Who knows if someone else will try to implicate you?"

"You're right, but I feel like I'm about to step onto a runaway train."

"Does that mean we're doing it?" Morgan asked. 

I slowly nodded. "I guess we are. This case is perfect for the podcast, and I'm the right person to take the audience into the story." 

"Should we start by calling Alina?" Morgan suggested. 

"Not yet," I replied. "She started this, but I need to review what happened before I talk to her, because I don't trust her motives. And while she's been thinking about this for nine years, I haven't thought about Paige MacIntyre since the day I left school. This is the first time I've been back to Chicago since graduation. I've avoided every invitation to weddings or baby showers of friends who still live here. I've even turned down my aunt's invitations to come for a holiday when my dad passed through town. I never wanted to come back, but this convention, our headlining keynote was too good to pass up." I drew in a breath. "Let's go downstairs. There are some workshops we need to attend. We'll regroup later. I need a minute before I press rewind on my life." 

Cassidy smiled. "Sounds good. But you know you're going to run into questions downstairs."

"That's fine. We'll tell people that our announcement is coming tonight, generate some interest before we actually commit. That should increase the traffic to our socials."

"That's the Tessa we know and love," Morgan said with a laugh. "Always thinking about how to make things bigger and better." 

I smiled back at them, but I wasn't thinking about the podcast right now. I was thinking about who I used to be, and how that girl had made a lot of mistakes that might be about to go public.