Chapter 86
Nikki, West Virginia
Did anyone track down Coco yet? #findMaple
Nikki Herrera scoops up a mouthful of yoghurt, berries and granola.
She doesn’t actually like yoghurt – it’s somehow both too sour and too creamy – but she follows so many wellbeing influencers on Instagram that it’s impossible to avoid the hype.
She shudders slightly as she swallows, then dunks her spoon and goes again.
It’s Saturday, which means she can take as long as she likes to eat her breakfast. She takes a slurp of coffee.
It’s her amateur attempt at a flat white, not quite Biggby quality, but still.
She picks up her phone and starts scrolling Instagram, always her go-to social media.
She watches a few cute dog memes, which sets off her daydream about having her own Frenchie one day.
Then she gets lost in pickleball content, transfixed by a forty-seven-shot rally from this year’s Minto Open.
Eventually she moves on, flicking away adverts for bikinis and supplements, trying not to get jealous over her friends’ sickeningly beautiful vacation shots. When she reaches a New York Times post about a new article, she slows down, her brain whirring with something like recognition.
A SECOND KIDFLUENCER GOES MISSING
Maple Clark revealed the truth behind Ella Hart’s disappearance. Now she is missing too. What’s going on and who’s to blame?
Nikki stares at the post, curling her hair around her ears, her unruly brown mop always impossible to tame.
Wasn’t that kid at camp yesterday talking about someone called Maple going missing?
Nikki narrows her eyes, taps her fingernails against the glass screen of her phone.
Yes, Ryan with the TikTok addiction. He called her Maybe Maple.
And a boy called Dylan Dope who’s trying to find her.
Nikki doesn’t have a New York Times subscription, but she’s invested now, so she opens TikTok and searches for ‘Maple Clark goes missing’.
A ton of videos come up. Mainly teenagers, but some older people too, all shouting into the camera, like their opinion is the only one that matters.
She sighs. How can she be too old for something already?
She’s only twenty-seven but TikTok overwhelms her half the time.
She rolls her eyes in self-reproach, then switches her search to look for Dylan Dope’s profile on the app instead.
A lot of his content is skateboarding, but his most recent TikTok is a direct-to-camera piece.
And as she plays the video, Nikki realizes that this is what Ryan must have been watching curled over himself on the bleachers yesterday.
Dylan talking about Maple being missing and asking for help to find her friend Coco.
Nikki thinks back. Wasn’t that why Ryan was all excited?
Because he knew the name of Coco’s YouTube channel?
Suddenly the yoghurt feels extra heavy in her stomach as she replays their exchange.
Ryan was eager to tell Dylan what he knew, but she just ignored that and gave him ten seconds to sort his shit out.
She didn’t give the TikTok plea a moment’s thought.
Even though it was a plea to find a missing child.
She pushes the bowl away, drains her coffee.
She’s being ridiculous. Ryan is a twelve-year-old boy from West Virginia.
He is not the lynchpin in this investigation.
More than that, he’ll have told Dylan Dope – and possibly the whole of TikTok considering how amped he was – what he knew as soon as he got home, which was over eighteen hours ago.
And Nikki can’t even remember the name of the YouTube channel he mentioned anyway.
A new WhatsApp message appears on her screen, and she looks down, grateful for the distraction. It’s from her friend Emily.
SOS call! Marla pulled out of pickle. Says it’s her ankle – it is SO NOT her ankle (and SO IS a guy). Court paid for. Can you make up a 4 at 10 a.m.?
Nikki checks her watch. Shit. That gives her ten minutes to shower and get dressed. But she’s not going to miss a chance to play her favorite sport for free. She sends a quick thumbs-up and leaps off the stool.