Chapter 46
Agnes and Lauren’s guesthouse, West Hollywood, Los Angeles
‘Maybe you shouldn’t panic yet,’ Cort says. ‘There could be another explanation.’ It’s late afternoon now and I’ve moved Find Antoinette HQ over to the guesthouse. I can’t have a house full of people when I’ve still got Aidan Ward alive in the wine cellar.
I must do something about that.
Cort has come over to help. Although so far he’s done nothing apart from annoy me.
‘Like what?’ I say. ‘All her stuff is here. And she doesn’t know anyone apart from the people in this room. Please tell me, Cort, what could be another explanation?’ I know I sound snippy but I don’t care.
‘I think you need to centre yourself, Kitty,’ he says. ‘I understand that you’re worried but snapping at the people who are trying to help you isn’t going to find her.’
‘Give her a break,’ Agnes says. ‘She’s fucking worried about her sister. We all are.’
Cort remains unperturbed. ‘All I’m saying is that there might be, and probably is, a more likely scenario than she’s been snatched by a serial killer.
It’s a bit farfetched. Reddit would have you believing there’s a serial killer around every corner.
’ He turns back to me. ‘Have you tried calling friends or family back home? Maybe they’ve heard from her.
You said you’d argued? Maybe she’s just lying low for a night or two? ’
‘Without her phone?’ Lauren says but presses her lips together when Cort gives her a look.
‘She might have dropped it.’
‘There’s blood on it,’ I hiss and Agnes puts a hand on my arm.
‘It might be worth having a look on some of her socials,’ she says gently.
‘How would she post when her phone and iPad are here?’
‘I know, but there might be some other clues on there. Maybe in her DMs?’
I pick up Antoinette’s iPad and open the Instagram app. ‘I’ll have a look through here,’ I say, ‘there might be something that helps.’
Agnes nods. ‘I’m going to call the local hospitals,’ she says in small voice.
I must look completely horrified because she quickly adds, ‘just to check.’ She puts a reassuring hand on my arm.
Although maybe it would actually be better if Antoinette was in hospital.
At least she’d be in a safe place. It certainly beats the alternative.
‘Thanks, Agnes,’ I say. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re not on your own. We’ll find her.’
I don’t have any doubt that we’ll find her.
It’s where we’ll find her that worries me.
And what state we’ll find her in.
‘Let’s meet back here later,’ Agnes says. ‘I’ll let you know if we find anything.’
She gives my arm a reassuring little squeeze and I head back over to the main house, opening Antoinette’s iPad again, heading straight to Instagram.
The first thing that strikes me is that, for a twenty-year-old woman, Antoinette is pretty off-grid when it comes to social media.
She only has a few hundred followers on Instagram and just a handful of posts; the most recent being a photo of the two of us at my mother – Carmella – and Gabriel’s wedding earlier this year.
She’s tagged it #FoundFamily.
Oh, Antoinette.
I click into her DMs, hoping I’ll see something that might be of use. Even just a message to a friend ranting and slagging me off would be amazing. Especially if it says something along the lines of ‘going to teach Kitty a lesson by staying out all night and throwing my phone away’.
But of course it doesn’t.
I do find something though.
A handful of messages from someone whose username is just a string of numbers.
I click on them.
It’s a one-way conversation. Antoinette has read them but hasn’t replied.
I’ve seen your photos
On PrivatePool
I’m going to find out where you live
Slut
You deserve to die.
You’re just like the others.
The words send chills through me. Could this be the killer? Why didn’t Antoinette say anything to me about this?
I click on the profile but there’s nothing to help me identify the sender.
It’s a new account, no posts yet and that ambiguous grey silhouette as the profile picture.
No followers and not following anyone. There’s nothing I can do with this.
I sigh and report it anyway, just to feel like I’m doing something.
Where are you, Antoinette?