Maybe if he came clean with her, she’d be honest with him. He’d show her the letter. Ask what they were arguing about. What was really going on between her and Candace the night she disappeared. Maybe even tell her his theory, the one he hadn’t yet shared with anyone. If she slammed the door in his face, then he was back to where he was now, so it was worth trying.

Having a plan helped bolster his confidence.

There were few streetlights out here, it was dark, and the only sound was a television turned too loud in a house across the street.

He stopped pacing in front of his truck and walked to Taylor’s front door and knocked before he could chicken out, then rang the bell for good measure. It wasn’t as cold as last night, but it wasn’t warm, and he immediately put his hands back in his pockets.

No answer.

Dammit. Maybe that car wasn’t hers. Maybe she was asleep.

He went back to his truck and rummaged around for his notebook. He wrote out a note.

Taylor: We need to talk. You can remain anonymous—I promise. But I have information...and I know you do, too. Lucas Vega.

He didn’t want to say anything too specific in case someone else read it, but he wanted Taylor to know that he knew a lot more about why Candace was killed so that she might agree to talk to him. If she’d come clean and tell him the truth, he would help her stay anonymous. There were ways to disguise voices on the radio: he could help her hide her identity.

Once he could get a confirmation of his theory, then he would share his story.

The entire story.

Without outside confirmation, he couldn’t say a word.

Before he changed his mind, Lucas folded his note and was about to walk back to her door but then decided it was more likely that she would see the note if he left it under her car’s windshield wipers.

He walked down the packed gravel-and-dirt driveway. When he saw Taylor’s back-porch light on, he hesitated. Maybe he should knock on the back door.

Then he froze.

A covered patio, large enough for two lounge chairs and a small table, was illuminated by a sickly yellow light. Someone was lying on one of the chairs.

This was it. Now or never.

Lucas stuffed the note into his pocket and stepped out of the dark.

“Taylor? Hey, Taylor, it’s Lucas Vega.”

The woman didn’t move. Was she sleeping? Passed out?

Dammit, Lucas, just leave the note and go!