I stare at the folder, afraid.
“Not Donald. We hoped so, but no. However, he did install a third-party software program called Monitor Sniffer, which monitors, records, and captures AIM conversations on all computers in a network, exporting intercepted messages to HTML files. Once you close a chat window, Monitor Sniffer automatically logs all of your chats.”
“What does this have to do with Liv?” I ask.
Someone knocks at the door, a fast rap. Paula yells to come in. A slender guy not much older than me with a Bluetooth and an electronic tablet in the crook of his arm opens the door. His eyes are dark-rimmed and match his mossy green sweater vest. When he gets closer, I realize they’re tattooed with eyeliner.
He offers his hand. “I’m Josh. Production assistant–slash–intern. You’re Julia Spunk. Of the Shiverton Abduction.” He pumps my hand, his starched French cuff unmoving. I wonder what else he knows. “I give Paula the time.”
“The time?” I say.
Josh presses his knuckles to his head. “I alert Paula to the number of minutes until we go on air. As you know, Paula’s on the ten o’clock news. So: one hundred twenty minutes!”
“Josh will also help tape our interview downstairs. I’m just prepping Julia; we’ll be downstairs in five minutes, Josh.”
Josh rocks on man-heels and hugs his tablet to his chest.
“That’s all, Josh,” she says.
He grins. “Of course. Can I get you anything before I go? Tea? Red Bull? Matcha for you, Paula?”
“No, thank you. You can go now.”
He backs out of the room and leaves the door open a crack.
“Josh is eager to please. And maybe a little starstruck by you,” Paula says.
“Starstruck?”
“We’ve all spent a lot of time thinking about you over the last year. Your story didn’t end for us after the woods. Actually, that was when it started,” Paula says, then flutters her hand at me. “Now open the file.”
The folder contains one sheet of paper. Above a string of code that looks like an IP address is one line of text:
“Shy SWF looking to meet Preymate for chat, play, more. E-mail direct [email protected]”
Paula stares, pupils big, waiting for me to say something. But I don’t trust my voice.
“Do you want to know who that IP address belongs to?” she asks.
I nod.
“It’s registered to the Lapin household,” she says gravely.
I reread it, and am quiet for a moment. Then I sputter, “Liv’s toying, killing time. She probably sent it during school.”
Paula points at the time stamp: July 12, 2013, 8:30 p.m.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Liv gets bored and does dumb things constantly to piss off Deborah. Like seeing this loser guy named Shane. In fact, maybe that’s how she and Shane hooked up. He answers the message, and they realize they’re a match made in heaven. See, that makes a lot of sense.” Even as I say it, I know how lame it sounds. There are a lot more direct ways to hook a bottom-feeder like Shane than playing a misogynistic video game.
“Julia, think,” Paula says. “My intern found this message in Donald Jessup’s saved cache of private forum messages. We can’t crack his e-mail, but I think the import is clear: that message is like an invitation for any creep to come find you.”
The silence fills with computer clacks and shouts wafting up from floors below. Paula is crouched in front of me, moving a hunk of hair from my face. Suddenly everything is blurry; I’m tearing up. Because I know ancient chat-room messages aren’t the only connection between Liv and Donald Jessup.
“It’s just esoteric code in the electronic ether, even if it is caught on a printout.” My voice cracks and falters. Maybe, but charcoal and paper sent through the old-fashioned postal service is real.
“Julia?” Paula says. “We can make this right. Even if Liv somehow invited Donald Jessup into your world, you can make sure it never happens to another girl. Because the fact remains that he did not belong on the streets.” Paula grabs my shoulders and gives me a firm shake. “He did not belong in the woods.”
Get yourself together, Julia.
The black in my belly slithers, spreads, takes up space. It rises, but not for Paula.
Josh raps at the door, and calls, “Ready for taping.”
Paula slaps her knees and stands. “Let’s do this.”