Chapter 59
Him
He clicks out of YouTube. Brandoninthesky, loud and clear out of Dylan’s mouth. Fuck. Unreal. He wonders about the message he sent. Whether now’s the time to send another. It’s hard to decide; the stakes are so high.
He pushes his laptop away in frustration and scans the photos spread across the table instead.
Ghosted for a week was all it took for that woman to fold like limp linen.
What a terrible mom she is. And he feels bad about that, the crap hand Maple has been dealt.
But also, good. Because maybe there’s hope there too.
Except she’s still not willing to bring Maple to Vegas.
He feels an urge to pick the photos up, but he doesn’t want them spoiled by his sweaty hands.
Not after the stress he went through getting them developed.
He should have sent them off somewhere, kept it anonymous, but he went to PhotoShack instead, stood at the machine, listened to it drone and whir.
It only took a minute to print the thirteen photos – five original, plus eight new – but he spent every second thinking that someone was going to look over his shoulder, accuse him of something terrible.
But no one even noticed him. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because it’s a skill of his, being invisible. There was a time when it bothered him, made him feel worthless. But then he discovered its advantages, and he’s not sure he’d change it now.
He rubs his hands on his jeans and collects the photos up. Maple in a swimsuit as a little kid, splashing around in a river, then a little older in a two-piece, looking more pensive. At first, he wondered whether he had a favorite age, but he likes her in all the photos; it’s too hard to pick.
His mind floats back to their YouTube show. Fuck it. He should throw caution to the wind.
Hopefully she’s so desperate to find this missing girl that her guard will be down, like the mom’s seems to be permanently.
Maple did seem different tonight, both wound up and wounded.
Maybe if he puts in more effort with his wording this time, more than comes natural to him, he’ll convince her to come.
It’ll be seeing that girl Ella all over the dark web that’s got to her.
He imagines Maple sinking, click by trembling click, into the murky depths of those underground websites.
Seeing the face of another child, a girl she recognizes but more than that, who shares so many parallels with her. Of course that would scar her.
Then a new thought hits him. He leans back in his chair. Balls his fists. Grimaces.
Because maybe Maple saw more than she’s letting on.
There’s so much AI-generated porn these days; that’s what he’s heard anyway – real faces on AI bodies. And Maple is all over the legit internet. What’s the betting she’s on the dark side too? His jaw aches with tension as he reaches for his laptop again and opens the Tor browser.
He needs to know. To see for himself.