Chapter 104
Dylan
I know it’s great that Maple’s family can narrow down their search to Vegas, but do you guys know that sex traffickers use bus stations to recruit vulnerable women and girls all the time? I hate to say it, but I don’t think they’re finding her anytime soon #findMaple
Neither he nor Garrett talked much on the drive to Vegas, both too shellshocked by Detective Nicholls’ news.
Coco isn’t a real person. Maple’s best friend is a fake.
Her image belongs to a woman from West Virginia called Nikki Herrera, except Nikki is twenty-seven now, which makes the stolen images over a decade old.
The FBI believe Coco is an older man, a pedophile trying to befriend kids online.
Possibly the same person who pretended to be Blake. Possibly, but not definitely.
Because Blake raised one red flag after another – Maple’s mom was just too greedy to notice – while the man behind Coco has proven himself the perfect liar, able to deceive Maple every day for months. And highly skilled in AI technology.
It’s hard to believe there could be two predators hunting Maple. But Maple has two million subscribers, which would make it one sicko per million. And looking at it that way, it feels like an underestimate.
‘So is Maple here then?’ Aspen asks, as they walk into the bus station. Dylan’s noticed that she seems pissed at her dad, which feels wrong, with Garrett so stressed about Maple. But Dylan is permanently pissed with his own dad, so maybe he shouldn’t judge.
‘Um, no,’ Garrett mumbles. ‘But she was here, and now we’re going to find out where she went next.’
‘How?’ Ash asks.
‘By checking CCTV,’ Dylan says, gesturing toward the customer service kiosk.
‘Come on.’ He walks up and gives the old dude behind the desk the kind of smile he usually saves for his bishop.
‘Hi, sir,’ he says. ‘This is Garrett Clark, and these are his kids. Their sister’s missing, and she was last seen here, on Friday, and we were hoping—’
‘Yeah, I know about Maple Clark,’ the guy interrupts. ‘Feds only left thirty minutes ago, once we’d copied the CCTV for them.’ He turns to Garrett. ‘I feel for you, man. I have four kids myself.’
‘So there is CCTV of her then,’ Dylan says. ‘Can we see it?’
‘Ah, you’ll have to ask the police or the FBI about that. It’s officially evidence now.’
Garrett lifts his palms. ‘Please. I just want to see her. And see the guy who took her, the whites of his eyes, you know?’
‘Honestly, man, I get it. I’d be raging too if I was walking in your shoes. But it’s more than my job’s worth, you know? Talk to the feds. I’m sure they’ll let you see it.’
‘Were you working here Friday?’ Garrett asks, changing tack. ‘Did you see her?’
The man shakes his head. ‘I was here, yeah, but this place is busy. Especially on a Friday afternoon in summer, people going a hundred different places. I didn’t see anything.’
‘What about other people who work here? Could we talk to them?’
The guy sighs, like he’s starting to get impatient. ‘The police have already interviewed everyone. I promise your best bet is to go see them.’
Dylan mutters ‘thank you’ and guides Garrett away from the desk. ‘How about we film a TikTok here,’ he suggests. ‘It might jog someone’s memory.’
‘I’ll do the filming,’ Aspen says, flipping down her hand. Dylan drops his phone into her open palm then walks to the seating area where the guy, Chris Brent, said he saw Maple. He waits for Aspen to set up, then starts talking.
‘So we are here, at Bonneville Transit Center in Las Vegas, close to the spot where Maple was last seen, and she was talking to a man we’re almost positive is very dangerous.
’ He pauses, the thought of not knowing who that man is, two possible suspects, hitting his gut harder than his dad’s punches ever have.
He takes a breath. ‘So please, if you were here on Friday afternoon around three o’clock, think about what you might have seen. And get in touch. My DMs are open.’
‘Hey, man. You’re Dylan Dope, right?’
Dylan turns toward the voice. It belongs to a young skinny guy with cropped ginger hair, wearing the same uniform as the guy behind the customer service desk. ‘Yeah, that’s me.’
‘I’m Sam. I follow you on TikTok. Your riding’s sick, man.’
‘I appreciate that, Sam, thanks.’ Dylan can sense the guy’s got more to say, so he waits, praying that it’s to do with Maple and not skateboarding.
‘Listen,’ Sam finally says. ‘I’m sorry about your friend. You know, I saw her, and the guy she left with.’
‘You did?’ Garrett takes a step forward. ‘That guy behind the desk said—’
‘Shit, no,’ Sam interrupts, his eyes widening. ‘I wasn’t even here on Friday. What I mean is I saw her on the CCTV; I copied the footage for the feds. And I just thought you should know that she seemed okay with things. Maybe a little nervous, but he didn’t drag her out or anything.’
‘Right.’ Garrett’s shoulders slump.
‘Can you tell us anything about the guy?’ Dylan asks. ‘What he looked like, what he was wearing? Anything at all, man. We’re kinda desperate.’
Sam’s face flushes beetroot. ‘Well, he was wearing a Raiders cap. Sorry, I should probably go.’
‘Do you have a photo of him?’
Dylan turns toward Ash. The kid barely speaks, but his stare is pretty intimidating now, and Sam’s face flushes under its scrutiny. And it makes sense, Dylan supposes, for this guy to take a keepsake with all the drama Maple’s disappearance is causing. Clout for his socials.
‘Listen, man,’ Dylan says, reaching out and touching the guy’s arm, just gently. ‘If you have something you could share with us, I would be so grateful. We all would.’
Sam bites his lip, looks at the guy behind the desk for a second, then exhales. ‘Bring your phone closer,’ he murmurs.
Dylan does as he’s told, and a moment later, sees the familiar ripple of an Airdropped file. Sam gives him a tiny nod, then slopes off behind a door marked Private.