I swallow, the sight a stark contrast to the picture that concealed her safe. Her wide, smiling face so full of life and fire. And then her dead, cold body frozen in fear. Whoever had killed her had scared her pretty bad. A niggling feeling tugs at the back of my head. Based on Gigi’s entries, her stalker didn’t scare her. In fact, it sounds like he did the exact opposite. I shake the thought from my head. He was obsessed with her, and there were several entries nearing her death that indicated they weren't getting along due to his jealousy over her marriage. His obsession must’ve been of the deadly variety. Daya then clicks over to the police reports. Not just the ones released to the public, but documents from the investigation that were confidential. Technically, the investigation is still open. It’s just gone cold. We took our time reading through the documents, but in the end, the only thing we learned was the time of death, and the fact that Gigi fought and fought hard. My great-grandfather, John, was immediately ruled out due to having several eyewitness reports seeing him at the grocery store during the time of the murder. I bite my lip, the thought eliciting guilt, yet I can’t help but think it. What if he was still an accomplice? I shake the thought from my head. No. There’s no way. My great-grandfather loved Gigi, despite the fact that their marriage was falling apart at the seams. It had to be her stalker. It’s the obvious explanation. The stalker gained Gigi’s trust—somehow—made her feel comfortable enough that she relaxed around him. And then he killed her. “There has to be significance to that ripped-out page,” I murmur, growing frustrated from the lack of evidence. I could never be a detective and do this shit every day. “Maybe the killer did it,’ Daya guesses, scrolling mindlessly through the pictures. I twist my lips, considering it before I shake my head. “No, that wouldn’t make sense. Why would they rip only one page out and not just dispose of all the journals? They’re all incriminating. Whether it was the stalker or someone else, Gigi speaks of being hunted. And if it wasn’t the stalker, then they could’ve easily pinned the blame on Ronaldo and been done with it. Whoever it was, they can’t have known about these. Gigi had to have ripped the page out before hiding the books.” Daya nods her head. “You’re right. Whatever is on that missing page is important, but we can’t rely on that.” “We need to figure out who Ronaldo is,” I conclude.