By the time I pull up to the bookshop, I have about fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to meet Evie. But I guess being early is better than being late. I’d go inside to wait for her except all the lights are off in the bookshop and no one appears to be inside.

“Is it closed?” I look around for a sign that announces so, but I can’t spot one anywhere.

Wanting to know the hours of when it’s open, I do a quick search on the internet about the bookshop but nothing comes up.

“So weird.” I drum my fingers on top of the steering wheel, unsure what else to do. I don’t have Evie’s personal number, or Easton’s, only the office’s.

I decide to give the office a quick call, but no one answers. The only option that leaves me is to wait around for a bit and see if anyone shows up. I still have ten more minutes until ten o’clock anyway.

After I make sure the doors are all locked, I relax back in the seat and text Kayden that I’ve made it to the bookshop. It may be a Friday night but this side of the town is dead, only a few other cars parked on the side of the road, and none of the stores are open. The desolation makes me uneasy. I hate that it does. Hate that I can’t feel safe sitting in my car. But that’s the world we live in today, unfortunately.

Five minutes later, no one has shown up at the bookshop still and strangely, Kayden hasn’t text me back. Unless he’s at practice he never takes more than a few minutes to reply, especially when I’m out and about alone and he requests that I check in. I’m about to call him, mostly because I’m bored, when I receive a message from Violet, Luke’s fiancé, who I’ve grown pretty close to over the years.

Violet: Hey! Are we still on for Halloween costume shopping tomorrow?

Me: Of course! We can’t break tradition!

A few years ago, her, Seth, and I all went shopping together for Halloween costumes. We had a lot of fun and bonded over helping each other pick out costumes. Since then it’s become a tradition that we go together and I like that we do. Like that I have traditions with my friends. Like that I have friends.

Violet: Awesome. Are you driving or me?

Me: I think we should make Seth. He never does.

Violet: I’m down for that. Lets make him buy coffee too. He makes us do it every time we go out.

Me: Sounds like a plan to me.

Violet: You want to message him or should I?

Me: Lol, I’ll do it. You two are too sassy to take orders from each other.

Violet: Hey, I’m not sassy. I’m just opinionated.

I’m about to respond when a light tap sounds on my window, startling me so badly I drop my phone. When my heads snaps up, I relax.

Evie smiles at me through the passenger side window. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s fine.” I lean over to pick up my phone off the floor. “I was just in my own little world and didn’t see you walk up.”

She motions for me to get out of the car. “Come on inside and lets talk.”

I quickly gather my stuff and hop out of the car while she proceeds to unlock the front door to the bookshop. “Do you own the place?” I ask as I move up beside her.

“I do.” She nudges open the door and steps inside, wiggling the key from the lock. “The location is great. Nice and empty where we can have a lot of privacy.”

I nod like I understand what she’s talking about, but really, I’m lost. Don’t most business owners want a location that will drive in more customers?

But I soon find out the reason behind her statement as she locks the door back up then leads me to the back of the store, beyond the dusty bookshelves, and to a door in the far back that’s secured with three deadbolts.

“Now, I have to warn you about what’s on the other side of this door,” she says as she begins working on unlocking the locks. “We’re not your average, run of the mill news agency. We like our journalist to get deep inside the stories. Like I told you at the interview, we pride ourselves on being in depth and for occasionally solving cases. In fact, we prefer that our research can lead to arrests.” She’s on the second to last lock now and my heart is thundering inside my chest. I don’t even know why, or what I think is going to be on the other side of that door. “But if people found out that’s what we’re about, we’d have a more complicated time going undercover, so most of what we do here at Offbeat remains a secret. We also like our journalist not to use their real names while they’re getting a scoop on a story.” She doesn’t unlock the final lock, instead dropping the keys into her purse and digging out an envelope. “This is for you to read and sign. Once you have, I’ll explain more to you.”

Setting my bag down on a shelf, I take the envelope from her and open it up. Inside is basically a non-disclosure agreement, which isn’t too strange. After reading through it, I dig the pen out that Evie gave me and sign my name at the bottom.

“Awesome.” She takes the paper from me and puts it into her bag. “Do you have that key I gave you?”

“Yes.” I grab it from my bag and hold it up. “Right here.”

“Good. Now put it in the final lock and unlock the door.”

This is by far the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced on a job, but I do as instructed and stick the key into the final lock and unlock the door.

“It goes to all the locks,” Evie explains as her fingers wrap around the doorknob. “If you choose to accept the offer I’m about to make you, you get to keep the key and use this place whenever you need it. Just make sure to always keep the door locked whether you’re staying or leaving. All of our research is locked up in here and we don’t want anyone wandering in and finding it.” With that, she opens the door.

After such a build up of anticipation, I half expect there to be some sort of futuristic, computerized room on the other side. But nope. It’s just a normal room with cluttered desks, computers, a coffee station, and, like at Evie’s office, research is tacked to the walls. A few people are typing away at computers but no one looks up when I enter.

“I’ll make introductions later, if you decide you want the job,” Evie explains as she leads me across the room and into a small, wall-enclosed area crammed with a desk, a filing cabinet, and a few computers. She plops down in a chair and signals for me to do the same. “Please, have a seat.”

I do as she instructs, sit down, and put my bag on my lap. I know I should be asking questions, but all of this—secret rooms, the package Easton delivered to me—it’s struck me speechless.

“You’ve been pretty quiet,” Evie states as she turns on her computer. “Have I scared you off already?”

I shake my head. “I’m just trying to process all of this.”

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I admit truthfully. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out why the need for so much secrecy.”

“That’s actually the perfect opening for me to explain what I’d like your first job to be.” She double clicks the mouse then turns the computer screen toward me.

On the screen is a photo of a battered girl maybe a year or two younger than me. Her eyes are swollen, her cheek is bruised, and her top lip is split open. Her eyes, though, are what shatter my soul. So hollow. So familiar. Like staring into a mirror almost a decade ago.

My gut twists as my mind conjures up images of what could have happened to her. “Who is she?”

“I can’t give out her name to you just yet. Not until I know you’re in,” Evie explains, watching me assess the photo. “But this photo is one of many. The victims, they all have a few of the same traits. They were all beaten and raped at a party. They can’t remember much about what happened, which probably means they were drugged, and they’re all being blackmailed into silence. ” She faces me and overlaps her hands on her desk. “I know one of the victims—that’s how I was able to find out this was going on. But no one’s been able to figure out who’s behind the attacks.”

“Haven’t the police looked into it?”

“Most of the women won’t go to the police, because of the blackmail and because of the shame they feel.”

“That makes sense.” Sadly, silence is something I understand all too well. I let the silence own me for years, let the secret eat away at my soul. It was when I spoke up that I finally freed myself from the self-torment and self-blame. Knowing what I know now, I wish I’d spoken up sooner. “Maybe you could go to the police and show them these photos.”

“I wish it were that easy, but unless the victims come forward, I can’t do much. And I think, considering what you told me at our interview, you understand that even if I did go to the police, there’s a chance the case might not get anywhere.”

“Yeah, sadly I do understand that.” I rub my lips together, contemplating. “So, is this the story you want me to write about? About these girls and their attacks?”

The idea makes me nervous, mostly because their stories will be so connected to my past. Sure, I’ve dealt with what happened to me, but I worry their stories might trigger past emotions inside me.

She shakes her head, confusing me even more. “I don’t just want you to write about their story, Callie. I want you to figure it out and get justice.”

I blink at her. “You want me to figure out who raped these girls?”

“I want you to try,” she emphasizes. “I want you to get deep into the story. I want you to understand it and make others understand it. But most of all, I want justice for the victims.”

I pick at a loose thread on the seam of my pants. “I want justice for them too. I really do. But… But I’m just a girl in college who wants to be a journalist. I’m not a detective and this sounds more like a thing for a detective.”

She smiles as if she expected that answer. “The last places you worked for—they were all about the story, right?” she asks and I nod. “Well, Offbeat isn’t about that. We’re about getting justice through the story. If we weren’t, we’d be like almost every other news column out there, putting our words down and telling the world, but not really doing anything to change it.” She leans forward, her eyes bursting with the sort of excitement I wish I could feel at the moment, but honestly, I’m scared shitless. “Change the world, Callie. I know you have it in you, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I want to.” Man, do I. I’ve thought about it so much. “But… it sounds sort of dangerous.”

“It is, but that’s why we’ll be pairing you up with a partner. They’ll also show you the ropes of Offbeat.” She doesn’t even try to sugarcoat it. “I don’t want to frighten you off, but danger kind of comes with the territory of being a really good journalist who writes about important things. All the best journalist I know don’t just tell the story, they live and breathe it until it etches into their soul. They feel it. Experience it. It’s what makes a truly good story.”

Her words are powerful—they really are—but again, and for reasons I can’t even quite understand yet, I hesitate.

I smooth my hands along the tops of my legs. “But it’s not just about the story, right? It’s also about getting justice.”

“You catch on quickly.” She reclines back in her chair. “I know this is something you probably need to think about—it’s a really big decision—so why don’t you go home and think about it for the night? You can let me know tomorrow if you want the job. If not, no hard feelings. I promise.” She gives a short pause. “I really hope you do, though. With your background, I think you could really connect with this story and victims in a way not everyone could.”

I nod. “Okay, I will.”

We chat for a few more minutes than she walks me out of the store. As I’m pulling onto the road, I spot two girls around my age walking down the sidewalk. Just a ways behind them a group of guys are yelling at them and laughing. With my windows rolled up, I can’t tell what they’re saying, but with how fast the girls are walking, I’m betting they’re not nice and comforting words.

I drive down the street slowly until the girls make it a safe distance away, then I press on the gas and head home to talk to Kayden about what happened tonight. Because if there’s one person in this world that can help me make a decision like this, it’s him.