Page 34 of Dead Air
"Of course." Blackwell gathered her materials with efficient movements. "I'll contact you again soon.”
Lawson remained at the table, processing revelations that reframed five years of assumptions. Monica's secretrelationship. Her unexplained financial resources. Her systematic withdrawal from everyone who cared about her.
The woman she'd loved had been a stranger. The case she'd pursued had been built on incomplete information. The justice she'd sought might have been chasing shadows of her own creation.
Around her, the hotel bar continued its anonymous rhythm. Strangers conducting business, making plans, living lives uncomplicated by murdered partners and buried secrets. Lawson envied their innocence while recognizing her own had died years ago in a warehouse parking lot.
She paid for a drink she hadn't finished and walked into Savannah's humid afternoon, carrying questions that multiplied faster than answers.
chapter
thirteen
The Savannah ConventionCenter sprawled along the riverfront, glass walls reflecting morning sunlight across the water. Crowds moved through the main entrance, many wearing lanyards with the True Crime Collective logo—a microphone wrapped in crime scene tape.
Lawson parked three blocks away. The email announcing Blackwell's appearance had arrived late last night. An ethics panel titled "Truth at Any Cost?" Perfect platform for a podcaster building her career on Monica's murder.
Inside, the convention bustled with activity. Vendor booths lined the main hall—equipment suppliers, podcast networks, merchandise sellers. Enthusiastic twenty-somethings clustered around popular hosts, phones raised for selfies. Murder as entertainment.
The program guide directed her to Ballroom C. She slipped through the doors ten minutes before the panel began and found the room already filled to three-quarters capacity. Six hundred seats facing a raised stage with five chairs and table microphones.
Lawson claimed a spot in the back row. Perfect vantage point for watching without being watched. The audience skewedfemale, mid-twenties to forties. Many typed notes on tablets or laptops. Future podcasters studying the masters.
Four panelists entered from a side door. Three men in business casual attire. Then Blackwell, black blazer over a crimson blouse. Professional but camera-ready. Her hair caught the stage lights, gleaming under the spots.
The moderator introduced each speaker. Credentials flashed on the screen behind them. Blackwell's listed Columbia Law degree alongside podcast download statistics that dwarfed her fellow panelists.
"Today we examine the ethical considerations in true crime reporting," the moderator began. "Where does the pursuit of truth become exploitation? What responsibilities do creators bear toward victims, families, and the accused?"
Lawson tuned out the introductory remarks. Her focus remained on Blackwell, who sat with perfect posture, attentive but relaxed. A natural performer aware of every eye in the room.
Someone slid into the empty seat beside her. Fiona Stevens, press badge hanging around her neck. Navy pantsuit. Hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She smelled of Miss Dior and ambition.
"Didn't expect to see you here," Fiona whispered.
Lawson kept her gaze forward. "Professional interest."
"Aren't we all professionally interested?" Fiona positioned her recorder on her knee. "Though some more personally than others."
On stage, the discussion turned to victim privacy. A male panelist argued for restraint when discussing graphic details. Another countered that sanitizing truth undermined journalistic integrity.
Blackwell leaned toward her microphone. "Balance exists between exploitation and education. Our responsibility liesin determining which details serve the public interest versus personal curiosity."
The audience nodded along. Professional ethics delivered with practiced sincerity.
"She's good," Fiona murmured. "Columbia debate team champion before law school. Never loses an argument."
The moderator directed a question to Blackwell. "Your current season investigates an unsolved police shooting. How do you balance pursuing justice with respecting ongoing investigations?"
"Justice requires transparency." Blackwell's voice carried authority without arrogance. "When official channels fail victims, independent investigation becomes necessary. Five years without answers suggests institutional failure."
Lawson's fingers dug into her thigh. Monica reduced to a professional steppingstone. Her death repackaged as content.
"Law enforcement serves communities through accountability." Blackwell continued. "My work supplements rather than undermines their mission."
"Supplements." Lawson scoffed under her breath. "Like a bulldozer supplements a shovel."
A question from the audience. A young woman with purple-streaked hair. "How do you handle resistance from authorities when investigating cold cases?"
