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What we can report is that investigators have been searching furiously to pinpoint the exact location where the duo was held captive. But despite those efforts, headway has been frustratingly slow. The agonizing delay is sparking sharp public scrutiny over the Cherrytree Hills Sheriff’s Department and the lead investigator handling the case.

We did reach out to the Sheriff's office and lead detectives today for clarification, but our calls were met with 'no comment.'

As day seventy approaches with zero public breaks in the case, fears are growing that this investigation may freeze over before answers are ever found.

Back to you, Bill.

Goldie

Neither half of me felt complete anymore.

There was the person I was before—before I was taken, before those months in the dark: the woman who was guarded, but laughed; who worried, but felt unbridled joy. There was the part that lived in the darkness, that only knew the darkness: the fighter, the scared, the brave, the worried—the woman who didn’t know if she would see the sun again, but would fight tooth and nail for the very idea. Then there was me after, where the before was forgotten, but the darkness was vanquished: a survivor, navigating a new reality surrounded by known strangers.

Now… well, now there was me. Whoever that was. I remembered it all. Not all at once, but when I pulled on the recesses of my mind, the memories I had lost in the dark could be pulled free.

But memories burden a person. The bad ones threatened to pull me down into the depths, but the happy ones fought to keep me afloat. It was too much to handle all at once.

And people had questions—so many questions—but I still didn’t have the answers. I still had never seen the man who took me; I couldn’t remember my abduction. I had a feeling those memories were lost in the blow that scrambled my mind in the first place. Well… I did remember leaning down in my car after I had dropped that stupid notebook of mine. Then it went dark.

My notebook. I wasn’t sure what had happened to it, but I knew the one person who would have the answer, and it was the one person I was ignoring.

Fai had driven me home, a smile playing on his lips the entire drive. While memories were a burden, having my family back was enough to lighten the load. I couldn’t believe that I had forgotten them all, and thinking back on the last few weeks, it felt absurd to know the lengths I had gone to avoid them.

Lengths that left me here, living in Lexington’s guest room. I sighed and sat up from my spot on the bed. I couldn’t hide out forever, and I wanted to know what had happened to that notebook. I had no reason to feel like it was important, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the secrets to what had happened to me would be revealed in the crisp lines of my notes.

I stood with a groan and said a silent prayer that Lexington had gone to bed so I could continue to ignore him, before shuffling out of my bedroom. The lamps in the living room cast a warm glow across the space as I padded in and let out a sigh of relief. The coast was clear. I wandered to the front window, glancing out at the police car that now lived on the street.

“Everything okay?”

I screeched at his voice, whirling around, my hand flying to my racing heart. “Fuck, Lexington! Announce yourself next time.”

His eyes went wide in worry, his hands raised in surrender. “I’m so, so sorry. I thought you saw me in the kitchen. I didn't mean to scare you—” he began rambling.

I rolled my eyes and picked up a throw pillow off one of his armchairs, throwing it at him. “Calm down, will you? It wasn’t some PTSD response; you were lurking in the shadows. It would scare anyone.”

He huffed a laugh, but the worry melted from his face. Not all his worries, but some. We stared at one another in silence for a moment. Neither of us knew what to say. Everything between us was so messy: the heartbreak four years ago, the one kiss we had shared before I was taken, and the last month we spent growing closer without the weight of our past. There were too many threads connecting us that had tangled in our relationship—some threads I wanted to cut, and others I wanted to hold on to.

I took a moment to take him in. Really take him in. I hadn’t known it, but the months had worn on him. His green eyes that reminded me of grass on a summer's day were tired, the light dimmer. His shoulders, which were always poised to perfection, held the weight of his sorrow. I hadn’t known it before, but now I could see how much he had changed. He seemed older, wiser, and exhausted. But under it all, he was so… safe. His arms that held me at night after waking me from a nightmare, his kind words hushed in the dim light as he rambled about nonsense to get my mind off all that had happened… his green eyes that not even amnesia could make me forget.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He seemed taken aback by my question and ran a hand across his jaw. “I feel like I should be asking you that.”

I shrugged. “You can, but we all know the answer is a resounding no. I’m not okay. And I shouldn’t be—not yet. Maybe someday. But what about you? Has anyone checked on you?”

He stared at me, two slow blinks passing before he responded. “I don’t know how to talk to you now. I don’t know if you hate me like before… or if…” He trailed off and swallowed hard. “If you care for me like you did just yesterday.”

“Lex—” I began, but he cut me off.

“And it shouldn’t matter; I know that. After everything, I should be the least of your priorities. I shouldn’t even be one, but I just need some guidance on if I’m allowed to touch you or be close to you, or if you hate me again. Which you have every right to,” he acquiesced. It was interesting watching him lose his cool—the suave demeanor of the man I once knew gone—leaving what was in front of me as his truth. “I just… I just need to know which Goldie you are today so I can brace myself for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know,” I answered, my voice just above a whisper, a lone tear falling down my cheek at the honesty. “I have no idea anymore, and that terrifies me.”

“Goldie…” he mumbled, his voice soft and smooth.

“I’m not who I was before—before that place. But I’m not who I was this morning. I feel like play dough, molding into new shapes on others' demands,” I explained. “I know I don’t hate you. I never did, truly. I resented you. I resented you for your freedom, for your recklessness. I resented you for forgetting about me. I was heartbroken that I wasn’t worthwhile enough to be remembered.” A strangled groan rumbled in Lexington’s throat, his remorse evident on his face. “This morning, you and your little boy were my whole world, and my world got a lot bigger today, and it’s all confusing—but you most of all. My memories of you are like a car crash. Hell, a fucking pileup on the interstate: the kind that leaves you stranded on the road for hours. I can’t reconcile it all because I feel like two different people, and neither is me. Not anymore.”

Lexington sat on the couch with a huff, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his gaze trained on the ceiling, but I caught his watery eyes—the tears he didn’t let fall. “Is your favorite color still yellow?”