“Whose idea was that?”
“Hers. I hoped it was something we could work through and that I would get the old Rachel back. She was worth it. But it became impossible. She stopped wanting to have sex. Like not just ‘not in the mood,’ but getting upset when I even touched her. Saying I was oppressive, boring. I was still in love with her but I just couldn’t figure out what to do to make things work.”
“How did it end between you two?” asked Verraday.
“She called me up one night and asked me to meet her in a bar. She sounded happy, like her old self. I was hoping that, you know, maybe Rachel had worked through her feelings and things would be the way they used to be. So even though I was on a deadline, I agreed to go out. But when I got to the bar, she was sitting there at a table with some guy, looking drunk, flirting with him.”
“That sounds awkward,” said Verraday.
Kyle blew a breath out through his teeth. “Awkward isn’t the word for it. I’ve never had anybody pull anything like that on me before.”
“Was there any kind of a confrontation?” asked Maclean.
“With the guy? No. He was as surprised to see me as I was to see him. As soon as he realized I was ‘the boyfriend,’ he found the first excuse he could and got up and left.”
“What did Rachel have to say about it?”
“She told me she’d just started talking to the guy in the bar while she was waiting for me. Said he was gay and was having problems with his boyfriend that she was helping him work through. It was a total bullshit story. She just wanted the attention. So I called her on it.”
“And what happened?”
“She laughed at me and started shouting in the middle of the bar that I was a pathetic asshole.”
Kyle ran a hand through his hair and tugged on a lock of it. “Everybody in the place was looking around to see what the commotion was. I’d finally had enough. Of all of it, I mean. Her rejections, her insults, her moods. So I got up and walked out. I could still hear her laughing this crazy, maniacal sort of laugh as I left the bar. That was the last time I ever saw her in person.”
Verraday leaned forward toward Kyle. “How’d you take it? I know I’d be furious.”
“It was degrading. But when I saw that look on her face, heard her screaming, I finally saw past my own shit and realized that this wasn’t about me, that whatever was bothering her had to be some kind of psychological issue. So I called her the next day to tell her so. Before I could say anything, she apologized. Profusely. I accepted her apology. But I also told her I would only see her from now on if she got professional counseling and that I’d help her get it.”
“And?”
“She went totally ballistic. Screamed at me that I was just like her parents and that I was even more of an asshole than she had thought. Then she hung up.”
“What day was that?” asked Maclean.
“It was a Sunday, second week of August, I think.”
“But you didn’t file the missing persons report until September thirtieth. What happened in between?”
“At first, I just tried to forget about her. Get on with my life. But then she started calling me.”
“She called you? You didn’t call her?”
“That’s right. I hoped that if I backed off, it would make her realize that I was serious about insisting that she got some help. But she refused.”
“How did she sound when she called? What did she talk about?”
“She was always upbeat and energetic, but in kind of a forced, artificial way. Like she was high. Or manic. She said she was getting her act together. She told me she had quit her job at the store so she could focus on becoming famous. She said she was going to build an ‘online following’ and become a web personality.”
“Meaning what?” asked Maclean.
“She was always a little short on details, but she told me she had been accepted as a model on an online site called Assassin Girls and that she had a lot of admirers. She was really proud of that.”
“Assassin Girls?” said Verraday. “I’ve never heard of it. What is it?”
“It’s an alt-erotica website. Pinup girls with tattoos, piercings, scarification, that sort of thing.”
“Can you show it to us?” asked Maclean.
“Yeah, sure.”
Kyle moved to his computer and started typing.
“Did you ever look at her profile there?” asked Verraday.
“Just once, when she first told me about it.”
“Why only once?”
“You’ll know in a second when this page loads.”
A moment later, the monitor was filled with images of young, scantily clad girls with tattoos and piercings.
Even now, Kyle only looked at the screen long enough to confirm that the page had loaded, then he looked away.
“I found it depressing that Rachel’s sense of self-esteem was dependent on exposing herself to strangers like this. And that whatever I could give her, it wasn’t enough.”
Maclean nodded sympathetically. “Is her profile still on the site?”
“I don’t know,” replied Kyle. “Like I said, I only saw it the one time.”
“Mind if we check?” said Maclean.