Del looked through the remainder of Allie’s e-mails, but found little of interest. He knew that once Allie got her phone back, like most teenagers, the majority of her communication would be either text messages or through her Instagram account. Sonny trotted into the room, jumped onto the couch, and looked up at Del as if to ask, “What are you doing?”
Del moved the newspaper and Sonny dropped into a ball at Del’s side, his usual resting place. “Eating and sleeping,” Del said. “Not a bad life.”
He pulled up Allie’s Instagram account. As he proceeded through it, he felt like he was trying to decipher a foreign language laced with photographs, mostly selfies of Allie, and symbols like smiley faces. He could see her transformation from the sweet girl he’d known to the junkie. In some of the pictures she was so thin she was almost unrecognizable, her nose and chin pointed and pronounced, sunken cheeks, and hooded eyes. Some messages were nonsensical, or simply acronyms that Del could not decipher. GLHF. IANAL. FWB.
He scrolled quickly through them, looking for the date after Allie’s e-mail conversation with J-Man. He found one dated the following morning. J-Man had immediately contacted her. “Relentless little prick,” Del said.
J-Man: KKUT.
Del had no idea what that meant, but it was accompanied by a selfie of J-Man. He had shoulder-length, greasy brown hair, blue eyes, and a wispy goatee. He wasn’t what Del had expected. He’d expected a slimy punk, someone at whom he could direct his anger. J-Man looked like a kid. Del remembered Allie’s counselor’s comment that so many addicted were “good kids, from good homes.”
Allie: I’m here
Allie included a picture of herself. She smiled, though it looked tentative, even a bit scared.
J-Man: There U R. Wow. Too Long!
Allie: IKR?
J-Man: So we getting together 2day?
Allie: Have 2 work
J-Man: Where? I’ll stop by
Allie: Can’t. No friends allowed. Boss is a Nazi.
J-Man: What time u get off?
Allie: 7
J-Man: Drive u home?
“This guy don’t freaking quit,” Del said, causing Sonny to look up at him from the couch.
Allie: Fam home
This time J-Man sent a picture of himself with his eyebrows raised, some silent communication—maybe looking to get high, or to have sex. Forget the fingernails. Del wanted to snap every one of this guy’s fingers.
Allie: NAGI
When J-Man didn’t respond, Allie asked: RUOK?
J-Man: Hard. I really loved U . . . Still do.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Del said. Based on the content of the subsequent text messages, some time passed with no response from Allie. Del silently prayed she hadn’t, that somehow this had all been a big mistake. He looked up at the far wall, at the crucifix that had once adorned the bedroom wall in his mother’s house in Wisconsin, and he made the sign of the cross, not for him but for his niece.
J-Man: U Still there?
Allie: Got to go
Later that night, after Allie got off work, the messages from J-Man started again. Del could feel his anger starting to boil. Several times he had to stop reading and set the computer aside. He went to the windows, watching the cars on the freeway. He knew where J-Man’s conversation was headed and he wondered if the outcome could have been different—if J-Man had stopped texting Allie, if Allie had not responded, if Del had smashed her phone or if he’d found J-Man and smashed him.
He went back to the computer.
J-Man: U home?
Allie: Yes. WRU doing?
J-Man: Kickin it. WTPA?
Del deciphered this to mean, Where’s the party at? J-Man sent a picture. He was clearly high.
Allie: R U hi?
J-Man: SMH Maybe. LOL
Allie: Thought u quit?
J-Man: New stuff SRS shit
Del’s interest was piqued. J-Man included another photo. He looked like a clown, goofy smile, eyes half closed. A young girl, Allie’s age, also high, leaned into the picture beside him.
Allie: U’re with TC?
J-Man: U Should come
Allie: Did U 2 hook up?
J-Man: HaHa
Allie: Thought you said you didn’t?
J-Man: It’s all good. We just hanging. Come by.
Again, minutes passed before Allie answered.
Allie: Can’t
J-Man: IU2U
Del felt sick to his stomach. He deciphered the code to be It’s up to you. He had to force himself to sift through the continuing dialogue, which seemed nearly nonstop over the next three days and nights. J-Man had been relentless, telling Allie he loved her and touting the quality of the heroin, wearing her down. Allie had continued to resist, but maybe only because she didn’t have access to a car. Eventually, she broke, and J-Man’s motives became clear.
Del read the conversation he’d dreaded the most, the night before Maggie found Allie.
J-Man: Pic U up from work?
Allie: K
J-Man: Lookin’ 4-word to seeing U!!!
Allie: We can go 2 my house.
J-Man: What about Fam?
Allie: Out late
J-Man: Sweet. Maybe we can put all that money you’re making to good use And there it was.
It wasn’t love. And it wasn’t friendship. It was what the counselor had told Del and Maggie. J-Man was no different from all the other junkie losers out there. It was money. It was about buying the next hit, and he didn’t care where the money came from, or how he got it, so long as he got it.
Allie’s final text was like a knife to the heart. Between her addiction, the draw of the heroin, and J-Man’s relentless badgering, she’d never stood a chance.
Allie: Maybe
Del shut his eyes, tears wetting his cheeks. He let out a held breath and it shuddered in his chest. His cell phone rang. Initially he couldn’t find it. He reached below Sonny to retrieve it.
“Yeah,” he said, thinking it was Faz.
“Yeah? Is that how you answer your phone?” The voice was light.
Del pulled back his phone to check caller ID, which said “Unknown.” He cleared his throat. “Celia?”
“Obviously not who you were expecting?”
“I thought it was my partner.” Del checked his watch. He had a couple hours before he needed to get back to the office. “We got the e-mail and text messages off Allie’s phone and computer, and I decided to look at them here at home.”
Celia was momentarily quiet. Then she said, “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m all right.”
“I’m just returning your call from last night,” she said. “Why don’t I call back later?”
“No, it’s fine,” Del said. “I was just wondering if . . . maybe you’d like to get a bite to eat again.”
“I’m in trial, and . . . It doesn’t sound like you’ll have any nights free until the end of your night shift this month.”
Del noted what she hadn’t said. She hadn’t said she wanted to go to dinner. “Sure,” he said. “Yeah. I guess that would make it tough.”
“I give my closing argument tomorrow morning,” she said.
“Good luck,” he said. “You’ll do great. The jurors love you.”
“You sure you’re okay, Del?”
Del wasn’t sure. “Yeah. Yeah, no problem. I’ll give you a call, maybe when both our schedules calm down.”