“I can’t help you unless you’re willing to tell me.” Hurt flickered in his eyes.
And that was the crux of it. She’d finally decided to tell him. But in her own time and in her own way. Now that had been taken from her. She hadn’t trusted him enough to open up back then. And she was hurting him all over again today. He’d known all along that she’d kept something from him, and that secret had cost their relationship.
Oh, Nathan.She would give anything to deserve a man like him.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She hated that her tears revealed how vulnerable and exposed she truly was when she’d worked so hard to be strong and cover up how broken she still felt inside.
Erin swiped at the tears, staring at the knots of wood in the oak table. “I focus on cold cases because I have one specific case that I have longed to resolve.” She risked a glance at him.
Compassion and understanding poured from his gaze, replacing the hurt. His eyes shimmered with concern. She needed to feel his touch and reached for his hand, which he quickly offered. He was risking so much by being here. Risking the pain again. She knew because the hurt ignited inside her all over again.
She cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to him. “You listened to my podcast?”
“I finished your latest episode, yes. Today I got an email that it was available. So before coming over here, I listened.”
She held his gaze, willing him to understand, then said, “It’s what I couldn’t tell you before.”
He took a few breaths, then his face morphed and twisted. “That’s ... you? That’s your story? You’re Erica Weeks?”
She hung her head. Couldn’t look at him. She had to get to the point. “Someone posted a comment on today’s episode.”
His grip tightened. “What did it say?”
Erin lifted her face again and held his gaze. “The comment asked about the pink hat.”
Nathan frowned. “Pink hat?”
“I didn’t include information about the hat in the podcast. The only person who would know about that...” Her throat grew tight, and she couldn’t finish.
“Is the person who took your friend.”
“Missy was wearing a pink hat that night.”
“You’re sure nobody else knew? Not even her mother? Other friends?”
“Nobody knew. And I never mentioned the pink hat to anyone. Looking back now, maybe mentioning that would have helped find her, but I was just a kid.”
Nathan pushed from the table. “It sounds like the abductor found you, then, but why bother?”
She stared at her unsteady hands, though she felt calmer now. Nathan’s grip and the way he listened helped soothe her. “After all these years, I don’t know.”
Nathan pulled out his cell. “Looks like that call was from the Seattle detective, just like you said. I’ll call him back, but right now, we need to get a forensics guy on the comment and see what they can find out.”
Erin nodded.
Nathan made the call and then finally spoke to someone about getting a computer forensics tech involved. Erin doubted that would yield anything to help them.
He ended the call, then studied her. “You’re the criminal psychologist here. Maybe you can come up with why someone would stalk or troll you years later. That’s why you went to great lengths to keep your identity anonymous.”
She nodded. “I don’t understand how anyone could know that it’s me, Erica, telling the story. Maybe I’m overreacting. It could be the abductor, yes, but maybe he doesn’t know I’m Erica and he’s simply commenting on a fact that I didn’t share on the podcast.”
“I still don’t like this.” Nathan had crossed his arms, clearly as disturbed as she was.
Closing her eyes, Erin shuddered. “I might not be overreacting.” But how could she know, considering she was traumatized?
“Explain.”
“From a psychological perspective, I’m not sure the abductor would comment unless he hoped to get a reaction because he knew it was me, Erica Weeks, sharing the story.” And he certainly got a reaction. “I just don’t get how he could know it’s me.”