The Podcast

Chapter 31

Wednesday morning

The inside of his SUV smells like pine and cedar. A very faint remnant of cigarette smoke lingering around the edges. It's unexpectedly comforting to Sumner. Something she tries not to overthink as she sits in the passenger seat with her hands tucked under her thighs, a chill breaking out over her skin as she stares straight ahead.

"Can I see it?" Lucas glances over at her, concerned that her naturally fair skin appears even paler, nearly translucent like she's seen a ghost.

Sumner bends over, pulling the crumpled wad of cardstock from her purse. Gently and with care, almost as if she regrets crushing it so callously in her fist, she smooths it out before handing it to Lucas over the console.

He takes it from her, their fingers brushing against each other briefly as he navigates the steering wheel with his knee, quickly reading it over.

"Seems like it has something to do with Hollywood." Lucas rests the cardstock on his thigh, looking back over at Sumner who's still staring straight ahead. "Do you have any episodes about Hollywood murders?"

"Yes." Her voice is hoarse, barely audible over the car's AC.

"What is it, Sumner?"

"My episode..." She trails off, her body shaking slightly. "My episode for this week...for today's release. The one I recorded yesterday. It's–it's called Starlet Slayer. It's about the 1980's murders of Melanie Fairtown and Juniper Lasset."

"The actresses?"

"Yes."

"When does it go live?" Lucas takes a turn off the highway, not heading toward the downtown LAPD office as Sumner expects.

"Not until noon today."

"That doesn't make sense. Maybe it's about another episode? An older one, perhaps?" Lucas' question goes unanswered as Sumner stares straight ahead. He doesn't force it.

They don't speak the rest of the drive. Half an hour later they pull into a quaint and modest neighborhood, stopping in the driveway of a small but well-renovated bungalow, a small porch wrapping around the front.

"Where are we?" Sumner unbuckles her seatbelt, her voice more curious than concerned. Anywhere is preferable to a police building. Had Lucas somehow known that?

"Home." Lucas gets out of the car, rounding the front to open her door. It's oddly domestic. Like a thing they do together all the time.

When they enter through the front door, Slate's black furry tail is thumping excitedly against the hardwood, his training holding him back even though he's inching closer toward Sumner, waiting for approval.

"You like dogs?" Lucas glances over his shoulder down at Sumner, unsure if she's really the type who would be okay with a sixty-pound dog jumping up to greet her.

"Yeah, yeah I love dogs." Sumner smiles sweetly down at Slate, patting the top of his head and scratching under his snout. He whimpers with excitement, and Lucas is glad to get Sumner's mind off the note she found this morning. Even if just for a moment.

Something about the way she'd been spooked on the drive over told Lucas there's more to this note than just the ominous pattern of an impending copycat murder.

"This is nice." Sumner takes in the living room, the exposed beam meeting at the apex of the lightly vaulted ceiling. Everything is in masculine tones—browns, creams, dark green cabinets in the kitchen. It's warm and cozy; lived in.

"You don't have to say that. Compared to where you live? C'mon." Lucas scoffs once as he makes his way over to the coffee maker. He can't imagine how different his home must look and feel to the palace Sumner lives in. He starts another pot, having long since conceded to his caffeine addiction. "Want a cup?"