The Podcast

Chapter 42

One Month Later

Sumner stares at her reflection in the mirror, her hand coming up to trace over the faint scars along the column of her neck. The skin is slightly raised, a few shades pinker than the surrounding pale skin, but the doctors assured her it will fade with time.

She doesn't really mind them though. Somehow they feel fair, right. Like self-inflicted lashes from a whip.

After being released from the hospital, Lucas had hardly left her side unless he was working. The media storm that followed Ezra's posthumous guilty conviction for seven murders and one attempted murder had kept Lucas at the downtown LAPD station longer than he'd like. She liked how much he hated the attention—loathed it even. They hadn't talked about what they were or weren't but he was a man of action over words.

He'd deleted that final episode recording. The one that told her truth, her role in this catastrophe. It was like she knew what she'd been unable to say to anyone before—she'd never meant for it to go this far, to turn this dark. Ezra's fall would be enough. He didn't need to claim another victim after his death.

That was a gift Lucas had granted her. And she was fairly certain she loved him for it.

After news of Ezra's conviction, Ina called Sumner to reinstate her contract. There was no remorse, no apology. Just a clear offer, as icy and polished as every encounter with Ina had been. The numbers were the numbers and they didn't lie. News of the scandal, the copycat murders, Sumner's near death—all by the hands of West Coast Killers own audio engineer—had the entire world turning into Sumner's podcast. The first episode to go live was bound to shatter all the records the show had already set.

But Sumner was given time. The only sign of courtesy from Ina.

When you're ready, record again. Whatever content you want. It's up to you.

Sumner vowed to never step foot inside the AudioHaven studios again. If she was to continue recording, she'd do it like the early days—from the comfort of her own home. She'd produce it, audio engineer it, and share it on social. Her team had abandoned her when they believed her to be a sinking ship. She didn't hold that against them. In Los Angeles, a few years with coworkers, with friends, is more than most can expect. All is fair in the view-thirsty land of internet fame and clout. Sumner knew this better and more intimately than most.

She'd gone far—too far—for the content that made her a household name.

But now she's vowed to return on her own terms. She's decided to take Ina's offering to heart—to record about whatever she wants. In her journal are some stream of conscious ideas, different directions she may take the podcast. Rebrand ideas that move away from true crime and into another genre, one where the stakes aren't so high and bloody.

Sumner swipes a few dots of liquid blush on the apples of her cheeks, gently blending the color into her skin before taking a deep breath. There's still one tie left to sever. Something she'd remembered in a fitful night of sleep, sitting straight up in bed and gasping for air, clutching the base of her throat. Lucas' warm, heavy arm settled around her hips, sleepily reassuring her that it's okay, that Ezra can't hurt her.

But Sumner isn't scared of Ezra. Not anymore. She's scared of how close her past was to coming face-to-face with her present. How close she'd been to sharing it with the world.

That had been two weeks ago. Today she's back at her own house after spending the majority of her nights in Lucas' cozy, modest bungalow. She walks over the dresser in her oversized bedroom, opening the top drawer on the left.