# Chapter 37: The Address That Came Back
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 37 of "Forget You Saw Her free digital audiobook." Sometimes a single message can change everything—and this chapter is exactly that kind of moment. It is tense, eerie, and deeply emotional, as a desperate mother’s instinct collides with a stranger’s vanishing warning.
Sabina opens the chapter regretting a late-afternoon cup of coffee before she has even finished the first sip. She already knows it will steal another night of sleep, but she drinks it anyway, staring out the living-room window of the Airbnb at the shady oak in the front yard. Her mind is not calm enough to rest. It is racing through Joel’s dossier, through the people she has spoken to, through the awful conversation with Mary Palphreyman, and through the fact that Nadia has just posted a new photo of Isabel to the Facebook page—and made Sabina an admin.
Everything spirals. Sabina’s thoughts become an out-of-control carousel, spinning from one unanswerable question to another. Was there really more she could do than the police? Or, as Joel gently hinted, was she chasing desperate rabbit trails? Maybe the dream about Isabel was just a dream. Maybe Isabel was never connected to Andrea’s disappearance. Maybe Sabina is grasping for answers because she does not know where else to turn. The dread is heavy: the fear that she may never learn what happened to her baby.
She tries to steady herself. She knows she needs food, something other than black coffee, and then she can return to the logical work of following leads. But even logic feels like a yawning maze now—branching deeper and deeper, endless forks and dead ends. She has already lost nearly a whole day. How much longer can she stay in Ogden? At what point does she pack up, go home to her husband, and answer the work emails piling up? Every hour inches her closer to giving up and going home. But not today. Not yet.
Sabina opens her laptop, accepts Nadia’s admin request, and the Justice for Andrea page refreshes. There it is: the updated Jane Doe photo of Isabel, now carrying her real name. Nadia’s post says they are both grateful and devastated to learn that Isabel Palphreyman has been identified as the Jane Doe. It asks anyone with information about Isabel’s death to contact Detective Monte Barker with the Ogden Police. There are shares, hug emojis, sad-face emojis—and then the first comment cuts through all the sympathy.
A stranger asks why they are posting about some random girl and who is actually running the page. Beneath it, Jenny Johnson replies with venom: pretty sure the true-crime nut jobs are bored, sad, let the police do their job. Sabina’s blood boils. She reaches to shut the laptop, but before she can, a bell chimes. A direct message to the page’s administrators pops up.
“I might know something about Isabel. But I don’t wanna talk to the cops. Or online. If you want to talk in person, I might.”
Sabina clicks the profile. No photo. No friends. The name—Amy Sue—sounds so generic that she immediately assumes it is fake. Still, she cannot help herself. She types back, asking for more. The reply comes fast and cold: “4900 S., 80 E. Apartment 8. 10:00 tonight. Do NOT come any earlier. Do NOT say anything to the police.”
The sour coffee churns harder in her gut. Is this another Dennis Beaumont spam account? Does this person really think she will show up alone at a random address? Then another message appears. “I might know something about Andrea, too. That’s all I’m gonna say here.”
Sabina freezes. Goosebumps prickle across her arms despite the morning sun filling the kitchen. This person claims to know something about both Andrea and Isabel. Barely breathing, Sabina starts to type a response—but before she can hit enter, the messages disappear. The name beside the blank profile image changes from “Amy Sue” to “Facebook Profile User.” When she clicks it, the screen says “Content Unavailable.”
“No! No, no, what the hell?” she hisses. She clicks back and forth, furious with herself for not taking a screenshot. Hands shaking, she opens her notes and tries to remember the address, but her mind goes blank. Was it 4600 South? 60 East? She types possibilities into Maps. Nothing fits. Tears fill her eyes.
Then, in a way that makes no sense at all, the address returns to her mind with uncanny clarity—like someone briefly switched on a projector inside her head. Goosebumps dot her arms as she types it in: 4900 S., 80 E. Apartment 8. 10:00. She sits back, the hair rising on the back of her neck. “Thank you, baby,” she whispers, pressing a hand to her heart. When she closes her eyes, she sees her wide-eyed baby girl with a shock of auburn hair and a rare gummy-mouthed smile. For a moment, the sour churn in her stomach settles into calm, and the quilt-wrapped feeling holds her tight.
She enters the address into Maps and switches to street view. What she sees makes her whisper, “Yikes.” It is a squat, two-story building so run-down she wonders if anyone actually lives there. The windows are barred unevenly, one covered in plastic sheeting. Even in the grainy photo, the jaundice-yellow apartments look warped and missing siding. It looks like the set of a horror movie in daylight. At night, it could be far worse.
Should she go there after dark? Should she ignore Amy Sue’s warning and call the police? Sabina zooms out, and then the hunch elbows its way through the chaos. She listens. At first, nothing stands out—just North Ogden, street numbers climbing and falling across the grid. Then her eyes land on the mortuary. And near it, a familiar set of locations she plugged into Maps last night: the soup kitchen and the encampment by the underpass.
She releases a breath. This has to mean something. Her heartbeat picks up. The colors in the tiny kitchen seem to intensify, and the lingering smell of coffee turns sharper. She cannot explain how she knows it—or what she will find—but she knows it. She and Joel have always joked about her “Spidey senses.” He thinks with logic, research, his left brain. She checks her gut first. It rarely steers her wrong. Her friend Kat once told her she was one of the most intuitive people she had ever met, right after Sabina called out of the blue and learned that Kat’s beloved dog Sasha had just died.
Now Sabina scans the map again. The safe thing would be to call the police. But that is exactly what her gut is urging her not to do. The address, the vanished messages, the proximity to the mortuary, the soup kitchen, the underpass encampment—all of it pulls her toward the unknown. And by the end of the chapter, Sabina is left with a terrifying choice: trust the warning of a stranger who may not even be real, or trust the instinct that has never felt more like her daughter’s voice.
## Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter is a masterclass in dread and momentum. The vanished Facebook messages create a genuinely unsettling, almost supernatural tension, while Sabina’s grief keeps everything grounded in raw emotion. The moment the address returns to her mind—followed by “Thank you, baby”—gave me chills. It blends a mother’s intuition with a mystery that feels bigger than any single clue. The negative comments and Jenny Johnson’s cruelty also remind us how ugly the online world can be when a real tragedy is treated like entertainment. The chapter moves fast, but every detail matters: the mortuary, the soup kitchen, the encampment, the decaying apartment building. It all feels connected, and that makes the final choice even more dangerous.
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ 4.8 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Sabina will go to 4900 S., 80 E. Apartment 8 at 10:00 tonight—probably alone, and probably against every safe instinct she has. She may meet Amy Sue, or someone pretending to be Amy Sue, and the encounter could be a trap, a warning, or the first real break in both Isabel’s and Andrea’s cases. Given how close the address is to the mortuary, the soup kitchen, and the underpass encampment, I suspect the next chapter will reveal a hidden connection between the missing and the dead. The biggest question is whether Sabina’s intuition is leading her toward the truth—or straight into danger.
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