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  “I’m kidding, Tessa. It was supposed to be funny.”

  “Oh.”

  “Whatever. Can I use your bathroom?”

  Blair stood, and Tessa breathed a sigh of relief. This had to be the most excruciating conversation ever. It was almost like Blair was holding back, waiting for something—some signal. Tessa didn’t know what any of it meant. The long silences. The weird jokes. The overpowering cologne. And that bag… There had to be something juicy in there. Something important enough to carry all the way to Texas. She hadn’t missed the way Blair dodged the question, and it only served to fuel Tessa’s curiosity.

  Tessa glanced up at the bathroom door. Still closed. No sound yet of a flushing toilet. She could take a tiny, little peek, right? No harm in that. How bad could it possibly be? With one eye on the bathroom, Tessa crouched down next to the bag.

  She slowly zipped it open, bending her head close to look inside.

  “Oh my God.”

  The words came out as a breathless whisper, but Tessa didn’t hear the sound of her own voice. Her mind had slipped its groove again. Her eyes widened, but they didn’t see. Her heart stopped beating, but she didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t feel a thing. She only whispered the same words over and over, repeating her mindless chant. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God…”

  • • •

  Taylor: TESSA I’VE BEEN HACKED.

  Eric stared at the useless words, cursing each second that ticked by with no response. 6:23 p.m. now. How much time had passed since that car drove off? Tessa must have put her phone away. Must be busy getting acquainted—getting acquainted with “Taylor.” Taylor, the first stranger she dared let back into her life. The one she thought she trusted. The one she thought she loved.

  Eric nearly threw his phone across the parking lot.

  He had to do something. But what? Should he call for help? Call the police? Eric flipped away from Twitter and began dialing 9-1-1. His finger hung suspended over the Call button, but he hesitated. Call 9-1-1 and tell them what, exactly? He winced as he played out the imaginary conversation inside his head.

  “9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

  “I’d like to report a missing person.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Female.”

  “Age?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “When was she last seen?”

  “Never.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I’ve never actually seen her. But she was supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago.”

  “She was supposed to meet you where?”

  “At the Trail Dust Honky-Tonk Saloon.”

  “A woman was supposed to meet you at a bar? A woman you’ve never met?”

  “Right, but then she—”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Are you calling to report that your blind date stood you up?”

  Eric clicked the phone keypad closed. He’d never be able to explain the situation to some operator—someone who’d probably never even heard of Eric Thorn or catfishing or Twitter itself for that matter. The story would take hours to untangle. And even if he could explain it, even if he could somehow convey the danger that Tessa was in, then what? What could they do? Where would they send the squad car? He had absolutely no idea where she’d gone or where she lived. He didn’t even know her last name.

  Another precious minute ticked by. 6:24 p.m. Eric shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring at his phone. He was breathing hard now but getting nowhere fast. What else could he do? He was just about to send another useless DM when a hand clapped him on the back.

  “Hey, kid, I just got off the phone with—”

  “Not now, Maury!” Eric brushed his manager’s arm away with a violent shrug.

  “Texting again with the mystery girl? She’s got you reeled in pretty tight, my friend.”

  “I said not now!” Eric strode down the sidewalk, desperate to get away from Maury’s prying eyes, but he heard his manager’s footfalls scuffle after him.

  “Kid! Wait up! Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”

  Eric turned on his heel, glaring daggers in Maury’s direction. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  “What happened?” Maury asked with a nod toward Eric’s phone. “Caught the little lady stepping out on you?”

  “Maury, I swear to God—”

  “OK! OK, keep your pants on. You’ll like this. I just put in a call to publicity. The show’s off for tonight.”

  Eric blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “Canceled,” Maury said. “Take the rest of the night off. Go deal with your text message situation. Ring in the New Year however you see fit. Just get yourself to Santa Fe in time for sound check tomorrow.”

  Eric shook his head, confused. “But what about the show? What happened to Tessa?”

  “Who?”

  “The concert winner! Tessa!”

  “The fan from Twitter?” Maury cocked an eyebrow. “Since when did you start caring about—”

  “I care, OK! Where is she?” Eric took a step closer, fighting the urge to grab his manager by the neck and shake the information loose. “For God’s sake, Maury, will you stop joking around for once in your life!”

  “Take it easy!” Maury stumbled backward. “What do you want me to say? She flaked out. She bailed. She’s a no-show. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “But did you talk to her?”

  “Don’t take it personally, kid. You’ve got enough fans to spare.” Maury reached out to pat Eric on the arm, but he dropped his hand again at Eric’s harsh intake of breath.

  “Dammit, Maury! DID YOU TALK TO HER?”

  “No!” Maury shouted back, his own voice rising in defense. “Don’t take it out on me! I haven’t heard a peep. She’s not answering her phone.”

  THE INTERROGATION

  (FRAGMENT 8)

  December 31, 2016 9:17 p.m.

  Case #: 124.678.21–001

  OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT OF POLICE INTERROGATION

  —START PAGE 8—

  INVESTIGATOR: Tessa, I have some bad news. My partner just spoke with your therapist, Dr. Regan.

  HART: Is she coming soon?

  INVESTIGATOR: I’m afraid she won’t be able to join us.

  HART: What? No! She was right behind us. The officers took me here in a police car, and she said she would follow us to the station. Did she get lost or something?

  INVESTIGATOR: It appears that she had second thoughts.

  HART: What do you mean?

  INVESTIGATOR: When Detective Newman spoke to her, she referred him to her attorney and declined to speak any further.

  HART: I don’t understand. Why does she need an attorney?

  INVESTIGATOR: Her malpractice attorney.

  HART: She’s worried about malpractice? Are you kidding me? My single worst fear in the entire universe just came to pass, and she’s worried about getting sued?

  INVESTIGATOR: She provided Detective Newman with a 1–800 hotline you can call if you’re in crisis.

  HART: I’m supposed to call some stranger on a hotline? Did she miss the memo where I have an irrational fear of strangers?

  INVESTIGATOR: Would you like me to call your mother? I’m sure the hospital can get someone to cover her shift.

  HART: No!

  INVESTIGATOR: Is there anyone else?

  HART: I can’t believe this is happening.

  INVESTIGATOR: Maybe a cup of tea or coffee? Is there anything I can do to put you more at ease right now?

  HART: Yeah, you know what? There is something you can do. You can arrest that animal, put him in jail, and throw away the key.

  24

  HIM

  Tessa’s eyes flitted around the living room, unable to comprehend the meaning of her surroundings.

  Chairs…couch…coffee table… The familiar furnishings of her childhood home. And yet something wasn’t right. Something she couldn’t quite remember…

  Her gaze c
ame to rest on an object sitting on the floor. Black and shapeless. Heavy, she knew, without reaching to pick it up.

  A bag. Duffel bag. Whose duffel bag was that?

  It didn’t belong there. Tessa knew that much. It belonged to… It belonged to…

  The realization hit her all at once. A wave of nausea rolled through her, and the air in her lungs burst upward from her chest, but the scream died inside her throat. The sound came out as nothing more than a whimper.

  Her mouth… There was something wrong with her mouth. She could only breathe through her nose. Her cheek muscles strained, and she felt a pop in the joint of her jawbone, but her lips remained closed tight.

  Sealed, she realized. Sealed shut.

  The truth came back to her in full then—the moment of sheer panic, just before the world went fuzzy gray. Dr. Regan had left her alone in the living room with Blair. Tessa had stooped to look inside the bag, and she’d understood everything the instant she unzipped it.

  Cameras, lenses, tripods. A spool of thick white cord. A roll or two of duct tape.

  The cord, she saw with a downward glance, now bound her wrists together. Long strands of it looped around her torso and upper arms, fastening her securely to a straight-backed wooden chair. And the duct tape… She could sense the sticky backing against her lips now. He’d plastered it across her face from cheek to cheek.

  A low moan escaped from behind the gag as Tessa’s eyes made another rapid circuit around the room. Her captor had disappeared somewhere. She could hear his footsteps puttering around overhead. If she listened closely, she could just make out the sound of him creeping from room to room: closing windows, drawing blinds…

  Tessa remembered how he came up behind her before. He’d caught her red-handed, looking inside the duffel bag. She’d opened her mouth to scream, but he’d clapped a heavy palm across her mouth. His other hand had reached around her and emerged from the bag holding a long, sleek blade—a butcher’s knife. He’d brandished it in front of her face.

  She could only remember bits and pieces after that. Her mind kept going vacant, drifting in and out of focus. She couldn’t recall being bound and gagged—only the way he hauled her over to a chair. She’d felt him reach inside the front pocket of her jeans, and she’d kicked her legs with all her strength. He hadn’t kept his hand in there for long though. He’d pulled it out again, and she’d felt the glide of an object against her outer thigh—her cell phone. He must have pocketed it before he tied her up.

  Tessa flexed her arms and strained forward with her chest. She had to get out of here before he returned. If she could only make it to the front door… She knew Dr. Regan must still be sitting in her car. Tessa pressed her weight forward, but the cord barely flexed. It cut painfully into the flesh of her arms and across her ribs. No way could she loosen it enough to slip out. Maybe if she tipped the chair over… Maybe she could try to crawl…

  The sound of a creaking floorboard interrupted her. Too late.

  Tessa squeezed her eyes shut as she heard the steady footfalls on the stairs.

  • • •

  Eric stared in bewilderment as the meaning of his manager’s last words sunk in. I haven’t heard a peep. She’s not answering her phone.

  “Wait a minute,” Eric said, his eyes suddenly going round. “You have her phone number?”

  “Sure, I tried calling. Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Maury gave him a tentative jab in the arm. “It’s just one fangirl. You’ve got fourteen million others where she came from.”

  “But…you have her cell phone number? Do you have her last name?”

  Maury nodded. “Sure, I have a copy of her driver’s license too. Full background check. The works. I know you like to complain about security, but they’re not actually so reckless that they’d stage a whole concert for some—”

  “Wait,” Eric cut him off. “Wait, wait, wait. You have her address?”

  “Why are you so hung up on this?”

  “Answer the goddamn question, Maury! Do you have her address?”

  Maury shrugged and began patting around the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, sure. Got it here somewhere. Some rural area about twenty minutes’ drive from here.”

  Eric felt something click inside his chest. Not quite relief, but at least a ray of hope. He turned on his heel and ran toward the side of the building where he’d left his car. “Text it to me!” he called over his shoulder. “I’m on my way.”

  He didn’t stop to listen to his manager’s voice, trailing behind him. “Eric, wait. You gonna do the concert there? I mean, that’s… I appreciate the initiative. Don’t get me wrong. But that’s not what we agreed. At least take a guitar or something. What about hair and makeup? Eric!”

  Eric reached for the handle of the car door when another thought flashed through his mind. He looked back over his shoulder at Maury, waddling around the corner of the building in pursuit. “Call her again!” Eric shouted to him. “Keep trying to get through! Tell her…tell her that girl isn’t who she says she is!”

  “What? Who isn’t?”

  “Just call her back and tell her!”

  Maury stopped running and watched in utter bafflement as Eric wedged himself into the driver’s seat.

  Eric tried again. “The catfish! The one with the rabbit’s foot! She’s lying! Tell Tessa not to take the bait!”

  “The catfish—”

  “The other one,” Eric yelled. “Not me! The other catfish!”

  “The other… Eric, have you been watching MTV again?”

  But Eric didn’t hear the question. He’d already pulled the car door shut. His manager’s bemused words were lost in the sound of squealing tires as Eric slammed his foot down on the accelerator and sped away.

  • • •

  “Still asleep?”

  Tessa froze at the sound of her captor’s voice as he stepped off the stairs and entered the living room. She’d closed her eyes when she first heard his approach. Now she didn’t dare open them.

  “Gosh, you’re sleepy, Tessa. You should get more rest. This is what happens when you stay up all night DM’ing some loser on Twitter.”

  He clucked with disapproval, but Tessa thought she heard a trace of humor in his voice. Was he making a joke at his own expense? She supposed he must be. He must find it all rather amusing. She’d stayed up almost every night for months, and the whole time she’d been talking to… How was it possible? Why hadn’t some instinct warned her? How had it never occurred to her—not once in all that time—that the person on the other end was him?

  Him.

  Tessa kept her eyes shut tight. She couldn’t bear the thought of looking at him.

  “That’s all right, love. You go ahead and sleep. Just hold still, OK? I’m going to start with some close-ups.”

  Tessa heard the noise, barely audible over the sound of his voice, but to her it resonated louder than a peal of thunder. That click, click, click of a camera shutter. She’d spent her whole time in New Orleans hearing that faint rhythm at every turn. For weeks, she’d thought she was only imagining it—hallucinating, hearing things. It was only on that final night that she understood the truth.

  Tessa’s eyes popped open at the ugly memory, only to be blinded by the sudden blaze of a flashbulb.

  “Goddammit!” he cursed. “You blinked! I told you not to move! Why do you always have to ruin everything? I swear, Tessa, if you would just listen to me for once—” He broke off angrily, adjusting some setting on the back of the camera.

  Tessa fought for breath. She recognized the familiar feeling starting up: the vise grip of anxiety tightening around her chest. Her usual deep-breathing tricks couldn’t help her now. Not with a piece of duct tape over her mouth. She couldn’t get enough air in through her nose.

  “I’m sorry, Tessa,” Blair said without looking at her. He lifted his camera and took a test shot of the wall. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, he began edging around the room, viewing her from different angles through th
e lens.

  Tessa darted a glance from the corner of her eye. He didn’t look the way she saw him in her nightmares. Not handsome but not exactly a monster either. He looked ordinary enough, with a sallow complexion and greasy, light-brown hair that might have been blond if it were clean. She could just detect the stale body odor that emanated from his clothes, concealed beneath the cloak of overpowering cologne.

  He spoke in a low monotone as he moved about the room. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. Don’t look at me like that. You know why I had to do this. You left me no choice.”

  Tessa struggled to follow the rambling speech. Her breath came faster now, despite her efforts to control it. She could feel her nostrils flare.

  “You can look indignant if you want, love, but you know I have a point. It wasn’t very nice, what you did. Not a nice way to treat someone.” He paused to examine the picture he just snapped, but he shook his head. “Try not to do that thing with your nose, please. It’s not the most flattering look.”

  Tessa barely comprehended. The buzzing sound had started in her ears. Soon it would be followed by the thick, black clouds at the edges of her vision. Would she zone out again? And then what? What would he do once he finished with the pictures? She blinked hard and forced as much air as she could manage into her lungs. His voice grew more forceful now, ranting, but she was too preoccupied with her own breathing to focus too closely on the words.

  “Women! Why are women so stupid? Huh? Can you explain that to me? You’re all the same. You want the same ridiculous thing. Some asshole who treats you like garbage. Am I right? Calls you a bunch of disgusting names? And you talk to him. You say you love him. A guy who doesn’t even deserve to lick the bottoms of your feet! And meanwhile, a nice guy comes along—a genuinely nice person—who wants nothing but to love you and cherish you like you deserve, and how do you treat him? How, Tessa?”

  Tessa blinked again. An asshole? Someone who called her names? Who was he talking about? Scott? But she’d broken up with Scott months ago…

  She shook her head from side to side in confusion, and that was when her eyes landed on the coffee table just off to her left.