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TRACY CARR’S BODY DRIPPED WATER AS SHE CLIMBED FROM THE shower and grabbed the towel off the rack. She dried off before bending forward and capturing her soaking hair in the towel and spinning both on top of her head. She walked into the bedroom, clicked on the television and let the morning news play in the background as she pulled on underwear and a bra.
Her phone vibrated from the night table and Tracy saw that it was her editor calling. She swiped the phone to activate the call.
“Hey, Gary,” she said.
“Are you watching the news?”
Tracy turned her attention to the television, where a CNN anchor was speaking while a red news alert banner blinked at the bottom of the screen—a ploy that had long ago lost its shock value. A lost dog was breaking news to most twenty-four-hour cable programs.
“I just stepped out of the shower,” Tracy said. “What’s going on?”
“Remember Larry Chadwick’s news conference from last week?”
“How could I forget? It was basically a campaign commercial to show how caring he and his son were toward victims of sexual assault. Political theater.”
“Yeah, well, that news conference is starting to look less like theater and more like an attempt to deflect guilt. A McCormack University girl named Laura McAllister is missing. Word on the street is that she was the student journalist who was looking into the rape Larry Chadwick and his son referenced during their news conference. Details are scarce but I’m sure there’s a bigger story there. I want you on it.”
Tracy read the glowing banner at the bottom of CNN’s broadcast: COLLEGE STUDENT MISSING IN WASHINGTON, DC.
“When?”
“Now. As soon as possible. Get down to DC and see what you can uncover. I want an opening article for tomorrow’s edition. As much as you can get. Then, more details as you uncover them. You’ll be on the story until we see how this thing ends, and if it’s in any way connected to Larry Chadwick.”
“I’m on it. I’ll call you when I’m down there.”
Tracy ended the call. She watched the rest of the CNN segment. A missing college student on the heels of a bizarrely timed press conference from the president’s likely choice to fill the Supreme Court vacancy. Could there be a connection there? Tracy planned to find out, and she couldn’t have asked for a better story to fall from the sky. It was a potential blockbuster. Hard facts were still unknown, which meant speculation would be wild—perfect for drawing in viewers to her social channels. It meant that the truth was still waiting to be found, and her ravenous audience would eat up any tidbit of information she was able to turn up. Tracy was a master manipulator of society’s sad but real affliction: a gluttonous appetite for the gory details of true crime. It was how Tracy made her living. Add a quasi celebrity—as Lawrence Chadwick had become over the last month as he was courted by the president—to the disappearance of a young, attractive college girl, and Tracy Carr had ratings gold in front of her.
In addition to her gig as a crime reporter for the New York Times, Tracy Carr ran a successful YouTube channel that covered true crime. She sported six million subscribers and the channel was fully monetized, earning her six figures from ad revenue alone. She employed three people to run the channel: Her old college roommate organized the advertising and optimized the channel’s placement on YouTube and around the Internet. A production editor collected the raw footage Tracy recorded and truncated it down to short, watchable videos. And then there was Jimmy, her cameraman. Shoots were typically structured and scheduled, but the quickly developing story she had just been assigned required fast action. She picked up the phone.
“Jimmy,” Tracy said. “Something’s come up. I need you to pack a bag, and all your equipment. We’re heading to DC.”
“When?” Jimmy asked.
“Right now. A college girl’s gone missing. But that’s just the beginning of it. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
CHAPTER 35
Washington, D.C. Tuesday, April 25, 2023 9:15 a.m.
THE OFFICES OF LANCASTER & JORDAN WERE LOCATED ON THE TENTH floor of the One Franklin Square building in Washington, D.C. The conference room was prepped for this morning’s meeting. Garrett had cleared his schedule, as had Jacqueline Jordan, the other founding partner of the firm. Jacqueline would, in fact, be lead counsel should Lancaster & Jordan take Matthew Claymore on as a client.
Garrett and Jacqueline stood when Matthew and his parents entered the large conference room, which was dominated by a long mahogany table that shined with morning sunlight spilling through the windows that overlooked Franklin Park. The dome of the Capitol Building was in the far distance.
“Matthew,” Garrett said as he extended a hand. “Garrett Lancaster, nice to meet you. This is my partner, Jacqueline Jordan.”
“These are my parents,” Matthew said. “Patrick and Sheila.”
Handshakes were exchanged.
“Thanks for taking the meeting so quickly,” Patrick Claymore said.
Garrett and Jacqueline’s research told them that Patrick and Sheila Claymore owned a string of grocery stores on the East Coast and were obnoxiously wealthy. Their son, Matthew, was a business major at McCormack University. The school had been in the news the past week after Larry Chadwick’s press conference. When the Claymores requested a meeting to inquire about Lancaster & Jordan representing Matthew in a potential missing persons case involving a McCormack University student, Garrett and Jacqueline quickly set up a meet and greet.
“Of course,” Jacqueline said. “Have a seat. I hope we can help. Coffee, before we get started?”
The Claymores declined.
Matthew sat at the head of the conference table, since he would be doing most of the talking. His parents sat to his left with Garrett and Jacqueline to his right. Jacqueline opened a leather folder and turned a few pages on a yellow legal pad.
