Chapter 30
Laine
It took me three hours to file the report with VPD. They asked the same questions over and over, and I still couldn’t point to anything or anyone who might be behind this. At the end, they told me they would search the IP address associated with the emails, but cybercrimes is backed up, and without some kind of lead, they don’t have a lot of options.
So, it’s likely I’m never going to know who did this. And I feel like I’ll never be able to look anyone in the eye again. My address book includes all the contacts from all the stories I’ve ever written. This video could have gone out to thousands of people.
To make matters worse, Frank King sent me a text asking me to call him. I let him know I was dealing with an unforeseen emergency but would be in touch in a few hours. This must be why he’s calling. I’m dreading reaching out him, but I know it has to be done.
When I get home, I call right away. If I put it off, I’ll just worry. He doesn’t answer, so I leave a message. But almost immediately, he calls back.
I take a breath and pick up the phone. “Hello, this is Laine Seymour speaking.”
“Hey, Laine. This is Frank King. Sorry about your emergency. Is everything okay?”
His voice is cordial and professional, but I can sense a hint of concern.
“I’m doing all right, Frank. Thanks for asking.” My stomach is churning.
“I wanted to talk to you about an email I received. It said it was from you, and it suggested I rethink our hiring of you as a reporter.”
I pull in as much air as I can and will myself not to pass out.
“We didn’t hire you as a reporter, you’re the editor to our newsletter, so that was a giant tipoff that the email wasn’t from you. But, ah, it seems someone has sent out a video and some photos of you in a…let’s say a precarious position.”
My cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I fight back tears. “Yes, I know about the email. I was at VPD filing a complaint when you texted earlier. Unfortunately, you’re not the only one to receive an email like that. But I can assure you it is not me or anyone I know in those images. It’s actually a deep fake. I’m doing everything I can to get to the bottom of it, and I’m very sorry if this embarrassed you. I hope it will not impact our professional relationship.”
“Me?” he says. “I didn’t watch much. It’s rather disturbing that someone would do this. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Thank you. If you don’t mind, I’m asking everyone who received the email to forward it to cybercrimes at VPD for their investigation. And once again, let me assure you that it’s not me in the video or the pictures.”
He chuckles. “All right, I believe you. I’m happy to help, but mostly, I just wanted to be sure you were aware of this video being sent around.”
I’m waiting for the however or the You’re fired . But it doesn’t come, so I rattle off the email address for cybercrimes. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this.”
My voice is a little shaky. “I understand if you want to reconsider me for the newsletter-editor position.”
“Not at all,” he says. “While I have you, let’s talk about the WMC locations you’re thinking about visiting, shall we?”
Relief floods through me. I can hardly believe it. “Yes, let’s do that.” I take a deep breath to gather myself. “I was thinking about starting with one of the Nunavut in the Northwest Territories.”
“You have a hankering for the Artic Circle? Excellent.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Cambridge Bay is a great facility and one of our long-term locations.”
“That was my thought. Plus, I figured I either go now or have to wait eleven months.”
We spend the next few minutes discussing the logistics of my trip, and by the end of the call, I feel much better. Frank’s compassion and understanding have put my mind at ease. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all. I can get through this.
I lie down on my bed and try to think about how this could have happened. I know I’ll feel better if the crime is solved. If they didn’t use my computer to send the emails, how did they get the addresses? Do I have a virus?
I sit up and open my laptop. I initiate a virus scan and bite my thumbnail as I watch the bar at the bottom slowly go through all of my files.
It comes back negative.
So that means whoever emailed my friends already had their email addresses. What stranger would know I got a job working for Worldwide Medical Care? It’s not been announced anywhere.
I leave a message on Detective Han’s voicemail letting her know what I’ve put together. The person behind this may be someone I know. I swap my computer for my journal and decide to do a brain dump. If I put everything I can think of down on paper, maybe I can do a better job connecting the dots.
I’m reading over the list I’ve been staring at on and off for the last week. I’ve not really left my apartment, except to see Abdo. I just can’t face the world. I’m mortified every time I think about the possibility of someone believing I’d make a video or photos like that. I’m very grateful to still have my job with WMC, and for the most part, I’ve just thrown myself into that. But I’ve also been trying to figure out how this happened to me. After sorting through every possibility I could think of, I feel like I know who’s behind the images and emails. But I can’t prove it.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to connect any dots. I might be a little obsessed, but so far, I’m keeping my thoughts to myself. I want so much to talk to Jack about it and get his perspective, but what if I’m wrong? That could blow up everything we’ve been working toward.
My phone buzzes, and I look up from my notebook with a sigh. “Hey, Trish,” I answer.
“You need a break,” she announces just as the buzzer to my apartment sounds.
I shuffle to the door and open it to find her with boba tea in hand. “Hey,” I greet her. “What brings you here?”
She gives me a look. “You’ve hardly left your apartment in days. I’m worried.”
I take the tea she hands me. “I’m fine. I’ve just been working and trying to figure out this mess. I know I’ll feel better once I understand it.”
“This is why I thought I’d come by to check on you,” she says. “Your messages seemed a little off, and Jack tells me the only thing you do is go sit by Abdo’s bed. You won’t even go out with him in the evenings.”
I’m paralyzed by the thought of having someone recognize me in public, but I can’t neglect Abdo. “He’s still in the ICU,” I say, feeling tears behind my eyes.
She shakes her head. “Jack says he’s doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Healing takes time. He’s the expert, and if he’s not worried, we shouldn’t be worried either.” I follow her into my apartment and sip the mango-flavored tea. “And we all know you’re avoiding us because you’re embarrassed. I mean, if I was that woman in that video, I’d be embarrassed too. Who sounds like that when they’re having sex? It’s so obvious she’s faking it.”
I roll my eyes.
“But we all know it’s not you , so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she assures me.
I sink into my couch. “I know, but I just want to figure it out. I think then I’ll be able to move on.” I tell her about my realization that it must be someone I know.
“They sent it to your new boss and the editor of the Sun ?”
I nod. “Fortunately, they were both very understanding. I’m just mortified that we even had to talk about it.”
“Speaking of people who got the email, have you talked to your parents?”
I groan. “God, no. It probably wouldn’t faze them, or they might not have even opened the message. I don’t think they’re home right now anyway. I need to check my calendar, but they had some big trip to Costa Rica they were going to do.”
“Well, I think you need to get out for a bit,” she says. “Let’s go shopping.”
“You know I can’t spend a pile of money,” I say. “I don’t need to go crazy.”
“Who said anything about crazy? We’ll window shop, and if you choose to buy something, it doesn’t have to be expensive. Let’s just get your mind off of this email thing for a while.”
I pause a moment, considering. Getting out of my apartment and thinking about something other than this mess would do me some good. Maybe it will clear my head. “Okay,” I say finally, “Let’s go.”
“Great. After you put on something other than yoga pants and a stained T-shirt.”
I smile. “Thank you. Good idea.”
It’s raining, so Trish has the rideshare drop us off in Gastown at her favorite boutique, One of a Few. I think she buys half the store. My favorite is a white sundress with pink tulips and cutouts at the waist. It’s feminine and very sexy.
“Let me know when you want to borrow it,” she says.
I laugh. “I have a feeling that once Phillip sees you in that dress, it’s going to be in pieces on the floor.”
We wander in and out of boutiques, and Trish buys several things as we go. I love this part of Vancouver, and as we walk around, she tells me about her relationship with Phillip.
“I’m having dinner with his family tonight.”
“Julia and Chip? And you’re just telling me this now?” My brow rises. “I thought Sunday night dinner was for the boys and serious girlfriends. Are you saying that’s you?”
She shrugs. “We’ve said the L word.”
“What?” I screech. Several people look over and give me dirty looks. I drop my voice. “When?”
“Last night.” She looks around. “I don’t know, Laine. I’m absolutely crazy about him.”
My heart sings. “He’s crazy about you, too” I tell her. “I love hearing this news.”
“Thank you, and you should know, all the Martins support you. I know you haven’t been looking at email, but Allison sent you a lovely note.”
“What? She’s on her honeymoon.”
“Yes, and the asshole sent the email to her, acknowledging her wedding.”
“See? More evidence that it’s someone close to us.”
She stops in front of a men’s store and sees a shirt she’s sure is perfect for Phillip. Who am I to argue?
“Are you nervous about dinner with the Martins?” I ask as we go inside.
“A little,” she says. “But Davis and Paisley will be there. And I know Julia well. I’ve always worked on her fundraisers.”
“Is Griffin going to bring someone? Is he still seeing the woman from the stag and hen weekend?”
“I’m not sure, but no way he’ll bring her or anyone else. Julia is still upset with him over that woman who scaled the wall and when she was arrested said she was pregnant with Griffin’s child.”
I shake my head. “That was ages ago. She’s still not over it?”
“She thinks Griffin is too reckless with his love life.”
“He has slept with lots of nurses at the hospital, or so I hear from the rumor mill.”
“Which is precisely why he doesn’t bring a date to Sunday night dinner,” she notes as we head back out with Phillip’s shirt in a bag.
At the next store, Trish pulls out a red dress that’s really just a scrap of fabric. “What about Jack? Are you back to saying the L word?”
“Put that dress down,” I warn.
“Well?”
I fight a smile. “I’ll never tell.”
Trish claps her hands and actually jumps up and down. “I knew it! This is great, right?”
“I think so? But I can’t convince myself it’s real.”
“Why?”
“He could change his mind again. The next bump in the road might put me right back where I was before.”
“He would never,” she says. “He’s worried about you.”
“I don’t know,” I say, blushing, “He has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need to worry about me.” I make a mental note to text him when I get home and tell him that.
Trish and I walk on down the street, jumping over puddles on the sidewalk and enjoying the sound of the constant rain.
“Do you know if the police have any suspects?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not that they’ve told me. I’ve been obsessively brainstorming about it all week. It’s someone who knows all my friends, their parents, and my employers and wants me discredited and shunned.” I take a deep breath. There’s no going back after I say it out loud. “To me, that points to Jack’s dad.”
“You think John Drake is behind this?” Trish nearly screeches. “What does Jack think?”
“I haven’t told him.”
Trish stops and turns to me. “Why not?”
I look down at a big puddle on the sidewalk. “What if I’m just seeing it because of the way he’s treated me in the past, and I’m wrong?”
“Jack knows his dad hasn’t been fair to you. I think you should tell him your thoughts. He wants to solve this as much as you do, and there’s nothing wrong with exploring every option.”
As we pass another boutique, I stop to look at a beautiful dress on display in the window. It’s a deep blue, with intricate beading and lace. I’m mesmerized by it.
“That dress is gorgeous,” Trish says, following my gaze. “You should try it on.”
“I don’t think I could afford it,” I say, feeling a little envious of Trish and her friends who can shop at such a high-end store.
“Come on,” she says. “It doesn’t hurt to try it on.”
I follow her into the store and approach one of the sales associates. “Can I try that blue dress in the window?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says. She retrieves the dress and shows me to a dressing room.
I slip it on and look in the mirror. It hugs my curves perfectly. The beading catches the light and makes me feel like a queen. Suddenly, the dressing room door opens, and I jump.
“What do you think?” Trish asks, grinning.
I turn around and see her holding a pair of silver stiletto sandals. “Oh my God,” I say. “I love them!”
Trish helps me put the shoes on, and I spin around in the dress. “I can’t believe how amazing this looks,” I say, feeling a confidence I thought this whole email debacle had stolen from me.
“You look fantastic,” Trish says. “And you know what else?”
“What?” I ask.
“This dress is perfect for Julia’s next fundraiser,” she says. “You should get it.”
I hesitate for a moment, thinking about the price. I have the money in my account, but I’m supposed to be saving for my next apartment. And I don’t want to bank on this WMC job too much until I’ve settled in. “This may not be Valentino, but you know I shouldn’t.”
“Fine.” Trish smiles. “I’ll buy it for you.”
“No. Don’t do that.” I stare at myself in the mirror. “You can’t always just buy clothes and things for me.”
“If I didn’t, you’d be in yoga pants and a turtleneck with a coffee stain all the time.” She hugs me. “I know you hate it. But I don’t think of it as anything more than showering you with love.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she takes my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. “Hear me out.”
I nod.
“The asshole who sent that video has taken the light from you. Don’t give them that power. Everyone, including your boss, thinks you’re amazing. You deserve this.”
I look at myself in the mirror again. “Okay. Fine. It is pretty great to feel good again. I’ll get the dress and shoes.”
“Let me,” Trish insists.
“I know you’d be happy to, but I want to do this myself.”
Trish gives me a squeeze and nods. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We head for the front of the store to check out, and just as they hand me my dress in a fancy garment bag, with the shoe bag attached to the hanger, my phone rings.
“Where can I meet you?” Detective Han asks before I can even say hello. “We may have a lead.”
“I’m headed home now.”
Trish and I take a rideshare back to my apartment, and I see Jack’s Acura NSX in front of my building when we pull up.
“Looks like you have company,” Trish notes. “Are you going to model your new dress for him?”
“Not at the moment, no.” I don’t see a police car yet, but I know they’ll be here any minute. “Detective Han may have called him.”
Trish shrugs. “She didn’t call me.”
“I know you want to get ready for your dinner tonight. You don’t have to come up,” I offer.
She gives me a look. “Yes, I do. I want to hear what the detective has to say.”
I nod, and we head up to my apartment.
Jack is in my living room when we enter. “I came by to check on you.” He looks over at Trish. “I’m glad you got her out of here.”
She nods. “Me too. We had fun.”
“Detective Han is on her way over,” I tell him. “She may have found something.”
“That’s great news,” he says.
I feel better knowing Jack is here, but it’s been awkward since the email went out. He hasn’t asked to spend the night, and he barely touches me. Maybe he’s giving me space, waiting for me to tell him I’m ready. Yet another thing I need to figure out. Instead of just staring at one another, I tell him about our day shopping.
“You should see the dress she bought.” Trish bounces her brows. “It’s beautiful.”
Jake looks me up and down hungrily. “I can’t wait to see it.”
I’m so surprised by his obvious lust that my face heats. I’m grateful when the buzzer to my apartment sounds.
I buzz her in, and Detective Han arrives with another woman. “I’ve brought Cheryl Fiske from our cybersecurity unit.”
We all greet her and introduce ourselves.
“Would you like some water? I can make a pot of tea?” I offer.
Detective Han holds up her hand. “We may not be here long.” She pulls out a piece of paper and hands it to me. “That’s the IP address that sent all the emails to your friends and work contacts. Right now, we’ve tracked down twenty-two emails, so it doesn’t look like they spammed your entire address book. The fact that each email had a customized message also supports this.”
I close my eyes. That is good news, but it’s still horrifying to think about twenty-two people having those images in their head now.
Cheryl puts her hand on my arm. “They know it isn’t you, and they’ve been quick to tell my team that pulled the emails and interviewed them precisely that.”
I nod as relief floods through me. “Thank you. I guess I needed to hear that from someone other than these two.”
Jack steps in and puts his arm around me, and I feel even better.
“Usually, when my team sees these, they’re real, sent by an angry past lover.” Cheryl looks over at Jack.
I cringe. “I don’t know the guy in the video, and I don’t know who sent it.”
Cheryl looks at Jack and Trish. “Did either of you recognize the guy?”
“No clue who he is,” Trish says.
“Definitely not,” Jack echoes.
“We were wondering if you know a Tamara Warren?” Detective Han asks.
I think for a minute. “I went to school with Tamara Winters.”
“No, this woman is in her mid-fifties.” She removes a piece of paper from a file and hands it to me. It’s a picture of a lady with dark wavy hair. She’s heavily made up and not smiling—a driver’s license photo.
I shake my head. “No. She doesn’t look familiar to me at all.”
I look over at Trish, but she’s shaking her head. Jack is muttering her name, but eventually he shakes his head too.
“Do you know what she does for a living?” Trish asks. “Where Laine might have crossed paths with her?”
“She’s a retired cashier from Safeway, and she lives in Surrey,” Detective Han offers.
“She doesn’t look familiar to me.” I search my mind for when I might have last shopped there, and I’m drawing a blank. “I haven’t shopped at Safeway in years.”
Jack takes the picture and studies it. Stepping away from us, he looks at the woman in the natural light from the window. “What else do you know about her?”
“She’s single. Has an adult daughter—”
“Is her daughter’s name Stephanie Holmes?”
The corners of Cheryl’s mouth turn up. “Why yes, it is. You know her?”
I gasp. “That’s your dad’s girlfriend. But their coloring isn’t even the same. Stephanie has blonde hair, and she looks very different from that lady.”
Jack shakes his head. “Stephanie has had some facial reconstruction, and my bet is that she spends a lot of money with a hairdresser on that blonde hair.”
Cheryl looks at him skeptically. “How well do you know Stephanie Holmes?”
“Not as well as she’d like,” I snark.
Jacks smiles at me. “She’s my father’s new girlfriend.”
“How can you be sure the Stephanie Holmes you know is related to Tamara Warren?”
Jack walks over and points to the picture. “Stephanie has some genetic markers that match Tamara Warren’s. They have the same cheekbones, and Stephanie has had her chin done, but I can see how this might have been the structure of her jawline before.”
“How can you be sure?” Cheryl asks, shaking her head.
“I’m a plastic surgeon. I can usually tell when someone has had surgery, and I know genetic markers. The tip of her nose and her cheeks are the same.”