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What had that sound been? An animal? Caribou most likely. The creatures liked to root around for food.
It was just one of many charming aspects of living in Alaska.
The noises stopped, and Craig released his breath.
He aired his podcast live, which took some skill. There were no edits to cover any mistakes. He also had a camera that broadcast his show online in order to broaden his audience.
That made situations like these tricky. He was trapped in entertainer mode right now.
He let out a feeble laugh as he turned back to the camera. “The nature of what I’m talking about must be spooking me, folks. Who wouldn’t be distressed at the thought of a ruthless killer living as a free man for the past eight years? The thought is enough to shake anyone up.”
Craig was a fifty-nine-year-old seasoned PI.
Spooked generally wasn’t in his vocabulary. But the horrific crime he’d been investigating for the past six months had put him on edge.
The facts of Henrietta’s brutal murder should puteveryoneon edge.
If people only knew the things he knew . . .
If they’d seen the things he had . . .
They wouldn’t be able to sleep.
“This person could be your neighbor. Your friend. Even your brother. He could be halfway across the world . . . or someone close enough for you to touch.” Craig paused again to let his listeners process the horrifying truth of those words. “He’s hidden in plain sight for years. But after tonight, there will be no more hiding.
“You see, I’ve been talking to people involved in the case. People who knew Henrietta personally. I’ve interviewed first responders. I’ve questioned forensic experts. And I’ve found new suspects—which led me to the very person I believe murdered dear Henrietta.”
Craig glanced at his screen where he got real-time stats on the podcast.
More than ten thousand listeners had tuned in.
He only hoped someone in law enforcement was also paying attention. Someone who actually had the power to act. Someone who cared as much as he did.
He’d told the local police what he’d discovered, but he was an outsider. They hadn’t taken him seriously. Had told him to stick with reading mystery novels.
The scratching noise outside sounded again, and Craig’s back muscles tightened.
It could be someone close enough for you to touch . . .
Craig’s own words echoed in his mind as he turned the baoding balls in his hands. The truth was, in his line of work, he was a target. He stuck his nose where it wasn’t welcome and made enemies in the process.
He’d known that was a risk when he started doing deep dives into unsolved murders.
But someone had to be brave enough to ask the hard questions and not back down.
He’d deemed himself that person.
“For years, the killer has gotten away with his crime and blended into the world around him unnoticed. Now it’s time to end the subterfuge.” Craig licked his lips and swallowed hard.
He realized just how powerful the weight of this revelation was. He was responsible for the information he shared, and he’d investigated this thoroughly to make sure his accusation was correct.
He would wrap up tonight’s show, and then he would move on to his next season—the Missing Women of Dalton Highway. He couldn’t wait to dive in.
The noise sounded again. A third time.
This time Craig couldn’t ignore it.
Something—or someone—was outside.
