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I tilted my head. “So, they were suicides?”
She threw her hand up in frustration. “Don’t you get it? No suicide notes. No teary social media posts. No journals filled with depressive comments. Nothing! And that many of them? All at the same time in their careers? You know, when they finally had a career they could brag about? That can’t be a coincidence. There aren’t coincidences like that!”
I shook my head a little. “So?”
She tossed her hands in the air. “So, I don’t believe it was suicide! I think they knew something and someone killed them to cover it up.”
I scowled. “So, what did they know? And how does he even get in the door?”
She gave a feral smile. “I know, right? That’s the thing. The women must have known him. So, I checked out the magazines and they all worked with this one photographer as their careers were really starting to take off. Also, not horribly unusual, but it would explain how he got in their door if they already knew him. Hell, maybe he even set up an appointment with them to talk about some special shoot or something. There’s nothing in their calendars, but maybe it happened the same day or was informal or casual. He’d say he would stop by to discuss an opportunity or something. But there’s no evidence to back it up.”
I nodded. “Okay, so what then?”
She winced. “I don’t know. My theory has flaws. There’s Reagan who had an overprotective mom-ager, super strict. No one got to Reagan without an appointment and going through mama bear. They even lived together. It’s the anomaly that screws with my theory.”
I let my hand return to her thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “So, the evidence says suicide, your gut says it’s murder, but you still don’t have anything to prove it.”
She sighed, looking defeated. “Nope. Not a damn thing.”
I nodded. “So, you keep looking.”
She shrugged.
I narrowed my eyes. “What?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Ransom, my gut’s screaming to me that I’m right. There’s a Shadow Reaper out there killing these beautiful women. Opening the windows and letting them fall or pushing them or something. I just know it. Why is no one else doing anything about it?”
Scanning for deer, I snuck a look at her. “Why are you?”
She pushed my hand away from her leg like I’d burned her. “What?”
I growled at her action, but put both hands on the wheel. “Well, if you know your why, maybe you’ll figure out how to get others on board.”
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
I sighed. “It’s not just because they’re beautiful, right? There’s more to it?”
She turned to stare out the window. “I guess my why is because they were young and just starting to make it in their careers when their light was snuffed out. I care about that no matter what occupation they were in or what they looked like. They deserved a chance to live their dreams. Their lives mattered.”
I smiled over at her, proud of how far she had come. “Then I know you’ll figure it out.”
After that realization, she let me hold her hand while I drove us the rest of the way home. It sounded like she had made some progress with the way she thought about beauty. People were people and their lives mattered regardless of what society said about them.
29
PHOEBE
For New Year’s Eve, we spent the evening at Chris and Joy’s wedding. The downtown hotel was stunning, but nothing outshone the two lovebirds as they pledged their love and their lives to each other. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.
When they walked up the aisle and we all dispersed to the reception area, I swiped at the tears still running down my cheeks. “God, that was so damn beautiful!”
Molly chuckled. “Yeah, I just love them. They’re so happy it’s awesome and gross at the same time.”
My shoulders shook with my laughter. “And look at you! You’re one of the world’s best-dressed bridesmaids.”
She preened. “Silver really is my color.”
She embraced me in a hug and I basked in the awesomeness that was Molly. Because of her help, I realized I had my assets. My value. I’d learned a lot in the last couple of months and I wasn’t going to let my size define or limit me anymore.
