Prologue #4
She shook her head. “Not that time. And I’d decided I didn’t want to pursue anything further with him.
For a day or two, it seemed like that would be the end of it.
Then he started messaging me again through WhisprMatch.
Apologizing. Saying how much he respected me.
How much he cared about me and wanted to see me again.
Being all charming like the first time we communicated.
But I was so over it. I tried to let him down gently.
He kept getting meaner. Calling me all sorts of terrible things. Degrading me.”
“This was all through the message section of the app?” Vega asked.
“Yes. He wanted my cell phone number but thank goodness I never gave it to him. The app was the only way he could contact me. I told him to stop. But then he started showing up. I caught him staring at me outside my window. In his car, parked across the street from where I went grocery shopping. And then he left notes on my windshield. Creepy stuff. First, it was him telling me how beautiful I was. But he’d do it in a way that made my skin crawl.
You know, describing what I was wearing the day before. ”
“When did you go to the police?” I asked.
“This went on for a couple of weeks. So I told him if he didn’t knock it off, I was going to go and get a restraining order or whatever.
That infuriated him. Then one night, I was out taking a walk in the park across from my apartment.
Someone came up behind me and put a hand over my mouth.
I was terrified. When he whispered in my ear, I recognized the voice.
It was Matt. He said if I caused him any trouble, or told anyone about him, he would make me disappear.
He let go of me and had me close my eyes and count to ten.
When I turned around, he was gone. So that’s when I went to the cops.
But it never went anywhere. I didn’t know his real name.
And WhisprMatch is different. None of your messages are saved.
It’s kind of like Snapchat. You can take a screenshot.
But if you don’t do that in about thirty seconds after you’ve read a message, it disappears.
And when a user leaves the platform, all traces of them leave too.
When I tried to pull up his profile at the police station, it was gone.
That creeped me out too, like maybe he followed me.
I had a couple of screenshots, and I gave those to the detective.
But there was nothing anyone could do. I didn’t even have a photo of him.
Just my own memory of what he looked like. ”
“Did the harassment stop?” Roy asked.
“Yes. I tried to go on with my life. It took a long time for me to feel safe again. I felt so stupid. Like it was my fault somehow. Did I send mixed signals?”
“It’s okay,” Roy said.
Corrine stopped. She started to hyperventilate.
I felt bile rise in my throat. “I don’t know what else to tell you.
I feel so stupid. But when I saw that video with the Crime Stopper number.
About how you wanted people to come forward if they felt victimized on that app.
Did someone get hurt? Did Matt hurt someone?
I would feel awful. But I tried. I told the police. What else could I do?”
Roy said, “You’ve done all the right things. I appreciate you coming in, Corrine. It gives us a place to start.”
She excused herself and left the room. Roy waited until he heard the outer door close, which meant Corrine was safely out of earshot.
“It’s not much,” Roy said. “I can see why Kalamazoo County didn’t do much for her. This guy sounds like a real creep, but I don’t know if anything she says he did rises to the level of a crime.”
“That app is a menace,” Agent Heller added.
“If we do nothing else from this, I hope we can finally get it taken down for good. The thing started out as a way for people to solicit dates but keep their activity safe from prying eyes. If the messages disappear after thirty seconds, you don’t have to worry about your wife searching through your phone. Your mess cleans itself up.”
“It’s disgusting,” Vega said. “It took about a week before online predators figured out how to use it.”
Roy said. “That’s the commonality among three missing women who vanished from the region over the last two years. That and this ribbon she’s talking about. One like it was found in the abandoned vehicle of one of the women who went missing. That’s why Corrine’s story seemed worth hearing.”
“That seems like a pretty thin thread,” I said, still feeling nauseous.
“You said the app is tailor-made for online predators. You’ll need a lot more of a connection than being an app user.
Plus, Corrine Egan didn’t go missing. She said this incident happened over five years ago.
How old is your first missing victim case? ”
“Just over two years,” Roy said. “I’m getting files sent over.
We should have them by tomorrow or the day after.
I’m asking for Corrine’s original report too.
I know it’s a long shot. But she can provide a description.
From what I understand, one of the other cases has a witness who can offer a description.
It’s old school. But let’s see if we’ve got a match.
She said dark hair. Looks like Don Draper.
That’s not nothing. And it’s at least loosely similar to the description another witness gave. ”
“First thing I wanna check is whether any of these victims were known to wear a red ribbon on their wrist,” Heller said.
“Excuse me,” I said.
I got up and walked as fast as I could to the nearest bathroom. Pushing through the door to the first stall, I went to my knees and retched into the bowl. I hadn’t eaten breakfast. Nothing came out but a little coffee. I broke out into a cold sweat.
There was a knock on the bathroom door. “Mina,” Belinda, our clerk, called out. “Are you okay? Detective Dennison asked me to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” I answered. “I don’t need anything.”
Mercifully, Belinda took my word for it and didn’t come in. I hauled myself to my feet and over to the sink. I splashed cold water on my face, and it helped. The nausea subsided. Just a little.
When I looked in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My face had gone gray. My eyes were red. I felt like I wanted to rip off my skin. Instead, I clawed at my smartwatch, pulling apart the magnetic clasp. Fingers shaking worse than Corrine’s had, I threw my watch on the counter.
I put my hand over the thin red silk ribbon encircling my left wrist. The one I kept hidden under my watch. The one that Lock tied there the night we first made love.
Don’t miss The Lawyer’s Husband, a twisty and utterly unputdownable psychological thriller by Robin James.