You only think I’m not a bad person because you don’t really know me, I thought, stomach flipping as I remembered the words he’d murmured to me a moment ago. I’m not a ‘good girl’ at all.

  Malachi’s eyes flicked to my clock. “I should probably let you get back to sleep,” he said. “It’s very late.”

  I nodded and slid lower beneath my blankets. “Thanks for the chat. It was… nice. In spite of everything.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled faintly and leaned down. “Let me just grab this for you.”

  One of my pillows had started to slip down the side of my bed. He retrieved it for me, and as he leaned in to tuck it under my head, all I could think was: God, he smells good. Like spicy cologne, clean cotton, and something undeniably masculine.

  “Thanks,” I murmured.

  “You’re welcome.” He drew back and began to turn away, the warmth of his presence lingering. “Sleep well.”

  “Wait… sorry. One more thing.”

  Malachi turned back to look at me, brows drawn in a quizzical expression. “Yeah?”

  “I know you can’t share all the details of the investigation with me, but could you at least tell me if you’re close to catching the Carver?” I asked, skin prickling with anticipation.

  His shoulders slumped slightly, and he shook his head. “We don’t have a suspect in mind yet. So no, we aren’t close,” he said. “But we are going to get him, whoever he is. My team is working day and night.”

  “Okay,” I said softly.

  He scooted a little closer. “I know you’re worried about it, and you’re worried about your own safety, too. But that’s not necessary,” he went on. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. In fact, no one will even come close to touching you as long as I’m around. Okay?”

  I nodded. “Thank you, Malachi,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

  He was so close now. Too close. I could see every bit of the faint stubble lining his jaw, the crease between his brows, the soft flicker of something unspoken in his green eyes. And I knew for sure I wasn’t just imagining the tension stretching between us.

  He reached up, like he was going to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but his fingers hovered for a beat too long. My breath caught, and I saw the exact second he decided not to pull away.

  His kiss was soft and hesitant at first. A question, not a demand.

  But then his lips pressed more firmly to mine, and I kissed him back, hands gripping the sides of his face to pull him even closer. Because how could I not? He was everything I needed right now. Strong, solid, protective.

  And yet...

  Guilt surged in my chest, sharp and sudden. What if the Carver was looking at us through the camera right now? What if he got jealous over me kissing another man? What if that jealousy turned to rage, and that rage turned into violence against Malachi?

  I couldn’t bear that. Couldn’t bear knowing a good man got hurt because I couldn’t keep my hands or lips to myself.

  Even worse was the shame suddenly curling hot and vile in my gut, because some sick, twisted part of me felt like I was actually cheating on the Carver. Cheating on a man I didn’t even know. A man who’d murdered multiple innocent people.

  I pulled away, my breath ragged. “Sorry, I can’t,” I muttered.

  Malachi jerked back. “No, I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand over his mouth as if he were trying to erase the moment. “I shouldn’t have done that. It’s not right.”

  My heart clenched. “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I did. I do. I just…”

  He shook his head and cut me off. “No, Kennedy. This is on me,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’m supposed to be protecting you. Not taking advantage of you while you’re in a vulnerable state.”

  “You weren’t taking advantage,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s just… we probably shouldn’t do it. Not with everything that’s going on right now.”

  He nodded and stood, dragging a hand through his hair. “Try to get some rest. You need it.”

  I nodded and lay back against the pillow he’d tucked beneath my head, my lips still tingling with the ghost of his kiss while shame and fear tangled in my chest like thorns.

  Malachi lingered a second longer, like he wanted to say something else. But then he turned and stepped out of the room, softly closing the door behind him.

  Breathing deeply, I stared up at the ceiling, trying to shake the crawling sense that the Carver was looking at me right now. I also tried not to think about how badly I’d wanted that kiss with Malachi.

  But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the way it felt… or the way it made me wonder whose side I was really on.

  Partial transcript from ‘After the Carver’ Episode 4 – Return of the Carver

  [Podcast Intro Music Fades In, Then Out]

  FREYA:

  Hey everyone. Welcome back to After the Carver. I’m Freya Landis.

  KENNEDY:

  And I’m Kennedy Campbell. Today... we’ve got a lot to get through.

  FREYA:

  Yup. A lot. So grab a coffee, settle in, and brace yourself. Because this one’s going to be heavy.

  KENNEDY:

  Right. First off, let’s talk about what’s coming up in this episode.

  We’ve been granted exclusive access to some of the original Carver case files. Actual evidence and reports from back when the first victims started vanishing over a decade ago. It’s the kind of stuff that’s never been seen outside law enforcement circles… until now.

  FREYA:

  We also have two of the original riddles that the Carver mailed to the police, and Corwin Bay PD has given us permission to share those with you.

  KENNEDY:

  Not just here on the podcast. We’ll post them on our website as well, so you can read through them at your own pace.

  FREYA:

  But before we get into all of that, I just want to say one slightly unprofessional thing regarding everything that’s happened over the last week. And that is… holy shit.

  KENNEDY:

  I think those two words have been sitting on the tip of everyone’s tongues over the last week or so.

  FREYA:

  For good reason. Most people assumed the Carver was either dead or done with killing. It’s certainly what I thought. But I was wrong.

  KENNEDY:

  He’s back. And he never really stopped.

  FREYA:

  It turns out the original investigation made a mistake. They assumed that the five missing victims were carried off by wild animals after their dismembered remains were dumped in the woods. That there was simply nothing left to find.

  But new evidence says otherwise. Lab tests from the remains of the two latest victims—Christopher Miles and Silas Boone—have confirmed that they were alive up until last week. Held somewhere by the Carver all this time.

  KENNEDY:

  Ten years. That’s how long the Carver kept them alive before finally killing them. Can you even comprehend that? I can’t. I’ve tried, and I just can’t. The horror of it... the suffering they must’ve endured… only to end up brutally hacked apart in the end, just like all the other victims.

  FREYA:

  That brings us to a question we’ve been getting over and over from listeners.

  Kennedy, a lot of people want to know why the Carver has chosen to deliver his macabre packages to you.

  KENNEDY:

  The short answer is: we don’t know. We can only guess.

  FREYA:

  Our main guess is that he's targeting her because of her connection to one of the victims. A victim who, as of yet, hasn't turned up, which gives us reason to believe he's still being held by the Carver along with Heather Voss and Brian Delgado.

  KENNEDY:

  [Softly] My father. Mark Campbell.

  FREYA:

  In a twisted way, this startling revelation gives us hope. Because it means Mark is probably still alive as we speak. Just like Heather Voss and Brian Delgado.

  KENNEDY:

  God, I hope they’re alive. I really do. But hoping for that… it’s kind of like walking on a knife’s edge. Because if they are alive, it means they’re still living in his world. And none of us can imagine what that’s been like for them.

  FREYA:

  It’s very heavy stuff. And Kennedy, I just want to say—because I know you won’t say it about yourself—you’ve been incredibly strong through all of this. Not just for your family, but for everyone following this case.

  KENNEDY:

  Thank you.

  FREYA:

  Can you share how you’re feeling with us?

  KENNEDY:

  Yes. It's been a real shock, for obvious reasons. It took me a long time to accept that my father was dead, so to find out that he might still be alive after all… it’s really got me reeling. It just rips the wound open again.

  FREYA:

  I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.

  KENNEDY:

  [Brief pause, soft breath]

  I think one of the worst parts is… sometimes I find myself thinking that a quick death would be far more merciful than ten years of imprisonment and torment at the Carver’s hands. Then I feel like a total monster for even thinking that, because it means I’m thinking that it’d be better if my own father was dead.

  FREYA:

  You're not a monster at all. Absolutely anyone would understand exactly what you mean by that.

  KENNEDY:

  [Softly] Thanks, Freya. And thanks to all our listeners, too. I’ve gotten so many supportive emails over the last week, and I can’t tell you what it means to me.

  FREYA:

  On that note: listeners, please keep sharing our show with your friends, family, and anyone else you can think of. Just one tip could be all it takes to crack this case wide open and reveal the Carver’s identity. And right now, we need it more than ever.

  KENNEDY:

  Because we’re not just discussing the past anymore. It’s happening right now, and that puts us up against a ticking clock before he claims another victim.

  FREYA:

  Exactly. [Deep breath] Now, let’s get into those riddles…

  [End of partial transcript]

  19

  Kennedy

  “Wow. That was intense.” Freya leaned back in her recording studio chair, exhaling deeply. “I feel like I need a cigarette, and I don’t even smoke.”

  I nodded, smiling wryly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  “Actually, you know what we really need right now?” she said, arching a brow. “To get laid.”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah,” I said, averting my eyes. “Too bad we’re both painfully single.”

  “Hey, speak for yourself. I’ve got someone on the down-low.”

  My brows shot up. “Wait, what? You’re seeing someone?”

  “Sort of.” Freya’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. “It’s… very new. Right now it’s mostly just sex. I don’t think he’s ready for more. And honestly, I don’t know if I am either.”

  “Well, spill.” I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Who is he?”

  “I, uhh…” Her smile faded. “I can’t say.”

  “How come?”

  “I wish I could tell you all the details. Really,” she said, eyes flashing with guilt. “But he asked me to keep things between us for now, while we figure out what we’re doing. And that means I can’t tell anyone about him. Just out of respect for his wishes, you know?”

  I nodded slowly. I couldn’t be mad at her for keeping a lover hidden from me, because I was doing exactly the same thing. In fact, what I was doing was much worse, because the man that I’d kept secret was a serial killer. One who was currently holding my father prisoner, no less.

  “I get it,” I said. “But I hope he’s not some total fuckboy who wants to hide you forever.”

  Freya waved a hand. “No, no, he’s nothing like that. He’s actually really nice. He’s just gone through a lot lately, so he needs some time to adjust,” she said. “Anyway, how about you? Have you had any moments with Hot Cop? Or Sexy Doctor?”

  I laughed. “I assume you’re talking about Malachi Sieger and Jacob King?”

  “Yup. Has anything happened with either one of them?”

  My mind instantly flashed back to last night’s kiss with Malachi.

  It was a mistake, and I couldn’t let it happen again. Not because I didn’t want it. God, I did. Being around him felt like standing too close to a fire: dangerous, all-consuming, and impossible to resist. But that was the exact problem.

  If I gave in to that pull again, his life could be at risk, because the Carver was always watching. Always one step ahead. And if he sensed that Malachi meant something to me...

  I swallowed hard, pushing the dark thought away before it fully formed.

  “Oh my god,” Freya said, eyes widening. She must’ve caught something in my expression. “Something has happened.”

  I looked down, waving a hand. “No, it’s just… um… Jacob King asked me out the other day. That’s all.”

  “Did you say yes?”

  “No. I don’t think now is a good time for me to be dating.”

  “Oh, please. You don’t have to marry the guy!” Freya said. “It could just be a physical thing, right? Help you get out all the tension and frustration?”

  I laughed despite myself. “I think I’m okay on my own.”

  “I actually think it could be super-hot,” she said, eyes glimmering. “Older man therapist, younger woman patient… it’s like a forbidden power dynamic thing.”

  “Well, in that case, maybe I should give you Jacob’s number,” I said, grinning. “In case things don’t work out with Mystery Man.”

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” she replied. “Not because I’m interested in swooping in on your territory, of course. But I’ve been thinking more and more about your idea to have Jacob on the show to discuss the FBI’s Carver profile. Or was that his idea? I can’t remember.”

  “His. But I agree. It’s a good idea to have an expert on the show,” I said, nodding slowly. “I also think it’s a good idea to have you arrange it, rather than me. Just so he doesn’t think I’m leading him on, or anything like that.”

  “All right. Text his number to me. I’ll call him as soon as I get home.”

  We left the recording studio and went our separate ways in the busy parking lot outside. I should’ve felt safe in the light of day, with all the people milling around, but I still couldn’t shake the constant feeling of being watched. Like eyes were crawling all over my skin, just out of sight.

  When I turned into my street, I instantly knew something had happened while I was gone.

  Red and blue lights pulsed against the row of houses. Multiple police cruisers were lined up along the curb, doors open, and yellow tape stretched across part of the sidewalk, fluttering in the breeze. I slowed my car to a crawl, scanning the chaos.

  Two uniformed officers stood at the end of my driveway, arms crossed, keeping back a growing crowd of neighbors who were clearly more curious than concerned. Some were in robes and slippers, clutching mugs of coffee and excitedly chattering like it was just a form of late-morning entertainment. Others held up phones, recording every second.

  A few feet away, a swarm of journalists and photographers jostled behind the yellow tape, shouting questions at anyone who came close.

  And then there was Malachi.

  He stood near the center of it all, jaw tight and arms folded as he spoke with another detective I didn’t recognize. His eyes flicked toward my car the moment I pulled up, and I saw his features tighten with concern.

  I threw the car into park and got out slowly, my legs feeling like they didn’t quite belong to me. The air was thick with noise, and I caught multiple fragments of conversations around me.

  “Can you get a better angle on that?”

  “Oh my god, Nell, did you see what was inside that thing?”

  “There’s another call from the lab, sir.”

  “Kai, I’m thinking we should go and take another look at the pickup spot.”

  “Donovan, grab me some evidence baggies, will you?”

  “Is that Kennedy Campbell?”

  That last voice snapped everything into sharp focus.

  In the space of a heartbeat, the swarm of reporters dashed toward me like a pack of wolves catching the scent of blood. Cameras were suddenly trained on me. Microphones were thrust forward. Questions were fired off from every direction like a barrage of bullets.

  “Ms. Campbell, why is the Carver contacting you?”

  “Do you feel responsible for encouraging the killer with your podcast?”

  My spine stiffened, but before I could open my mouth, Malachi was there. He pushed through the cluster of bodies with a look that could level a charging bull.

  “That’s enough,” he barked. “Everyone back behind the tape. Now.”

  A few reporters tried to protest, still jostling for position, but Malachi stepped forward, planting himself solidly between me and the crowd. He motioned to two uniformed officers standing nearby.

  “I said back. This line’s here for a reason,” he continued, his voice rising. “And let me be clear. Any more attempts to get onto Ms. Campbell’s property, and I will arrest you for trespassing.”

  There was a murmur of discontent, but the officers began herding everyone back, forcing the media circus to retreat behind the yellow tape.

  The pressure eased just enough for me to exhale. Malachi turned to me, eyes scanning my face like he was checking for injuries. “You okay?”

  I nodded, though I didn’t feel okay. I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. “What happened?” I asked.

  His jaw tightened. “Another Carver package arrived about twenty minutes ago. Unfortunately, one of your neighbors saw and immediately blasted it all over a Facebook community group. Took about five minutes for the media vultures and looky-loos to descend.” He motioned toward the chaos unfolding on the lawn. “Hence the circus out here.”