The Last Thing I Remember
One massacre. Two murders. Three versions of the truth. Detective Maya Cross survived the worst night of her life—the Silver Creek Massacre that claimed twenty-three lives, including her younger sister. She....
One massacre. Two murders. Three versions of the truth. Detective Maya Cross survived the worst night of her life—the Silver Creek Massacre that claimed twenty-three lives, including her younger sister. She woke up in a hospital bed with three days erased from her memory and a detective's badge that felt like a lie. Ten years later, she's a private investigator who can't investigate her own past. Then her abusive ex-husband turns up dead in her car trunk. She wakes covered in his blood, no memory of the previous forty-eight hours. The evidence is airtight. The motive is obvious. The verdict seems inevitable. But from her prison cell, anonymous messages arrive: "You didn't kill him. I finished what you couldn't. Now find out why." When she's released on a technicality, Maya returns to the only place that might hold answers: the abandoned Silver Creek Estate, where the massacre happened. There, she discovers a terrifying gift—when she touches objects connected to violent deaths, she sees the victim's final moments. The estate remembers. And it's been waiting for her. As Maya digs deeper, she uncovers a conspiracy spanning generations, a secret society hiding behind a true crime book club, and a shocking truth: the massacre wasn't random. It was personal. And the person pulling the strings has been watching her her entire life. How can you trust your memory when your memory is trying to kill you?
Disclaimer: This show may contain expletives, strong language, and mature content for adult listeners, including sexually explicit content and themes of violence. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, businesses, places or events is coincidental. This show is not intended to offend or defame any individual, entity, caste, community, race, religion or to denigrate any institution or person, living or dead. Listener's discretion is advised.
