Follow Me Back (Follow Me Back #1)
A.V. Geiger
To David, for reminding me to breathe.
THE INTERROGATION
(FRAGMENT 1) December 31, 2016, 8:42 p.m.
Case #: 124.678.21–001
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTION OF POLICE INTERVIEW
—START PAGE 1—
INVESTIGATOR: Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Thorn. We’d like to ask you a few questions.
THORN: Where’s Tessa?
INVESTIGATOR: I’m Lieutenant Charles Foster. This is Detective Terence Newman. For the record, today is December 31 at 8:42 p.m. This interview is being recorded.
THORN: Is she here? Is she in the building?
INVESTIGATOR: Mr. Thorn, please sit down. This is an ongoing criminal investigation.
THORN: Tell me where she is!
INVESTIGATOR: We can’t discuss that until we’ve taken your statement.
THORN: She’s safe though, right? Will you tell me that much?
INVESTIGATOR: Son, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner we’ll get this whole thing sorted out.
THORN: OK. OK. What do you want to know?
INVESTIGATOR: Thank you. Please state your full name, date of birth, and occupation for the record.
THORN: Eric Taylor Thorn. Date of birth, March 18, 1998. What was the third thing?
INVESTIGATOR: Occupation.
THORN: I don’t…I don’t even know anymore. Take your pick. Singer. Songwriter. Actor. Underwear model. Professional media whore? Does that qualify as an occupation?
INVESTIGATOR: That’s fine, Mr. Thorn. Take it easy. This should only take a few minutes.
THORN: Should I have a lawyer?
INVESTIGATOR: You have the right to call an attorney at any time.
THORN: Am I under arrest?
INVESTIGATOR: We just have some questions. As I said, the sooner we have your statement, the sooner—
THORN: OK. Forget it. Tell me what you want to know.
INVESTIGATOR: Let’s start at the beginning.
THORN: The beginning. What’s the beginning? The day I got my record deal? The day I first picked up a guitar? I was about four years old.
INVESTIGATOR: We’re talking about Tessa Hart. Tell us how you and Ms. Hart first became involved.
THORN: Over Twitter. Last summer. I think it was sometime in August. It started before that though. Before I even set up the account… [pause]
INVESTIGATOR: Please continue.
THORN: I guess… [pause] I guess if you have to start the story somewhere, I’d say the whole thing actually started in June with Dorian Cromwell. You know, from the boy band.
INVESTIGATOR: Are you saying this case is connected to what happened to Dorian Cromwell?
THORN: No, not really. Sorry, I’m not making any sense. I just meant the story was all over the news. And then the trial with that messed-up girl. All because he followed her back.
INVESTIGATOR: I’m afraid I’m still not following. How does the Dorian Cromwell case relate to your relationship with Tessa Hart?
THORN: It’s funny. I knew it the moment I heard the story. I knew in my gut what must have happened to him. People say they’ll always remember where they were when Kennedy was shot. Or where they were on 9/11. That’s kind of how it was for me. I was driving down the Santa Monica Freeway with the top down, listening to the Top 40 on the radio. And the announcer broke in, right in the middle of number twelve. I wasn’t even paying attention, but that was weird. You knew it was something big because they stopped in the middle of the song. They didn’t know exactly what had happened yet. It took a few days to get to the bottom of it. About that girl, that fan. They didn’t even know for sure it was a murder at that point. They only knew that it was Dorian Cromwell. That’s what they said. Those were the exact words: Dorian Cromwell, lead singer of Fourth Dimension, was found dead this morning in London, floating facedown in the Thames.
1
PROJECTING
August 12, 2016
“You’re not obsessed. You’re projecting.”
“Projecting?” Tessa looked up from the thick coil of long, brown hair that she’d been braiding and unbraiding for the past half hour. She met eyes uncertainly with her psychotherapist, Dr. Regan, sitting on the other side of the bedroom.
“It’s a common defense mechanism,” Dr. Regan said. Her tone remained emotionless as usual—the human equivalent of a white noise machine—but she shifted uncomfortably as she spoke. She sat perched in a low-slung, pink beanbag chair with her legs crossed at the ankles, striving to maintain a professional demeanor. Normally, she only met with clients in her office, but she made an exception for Tessa.
Tessa’s gaze dropped to the older woman’s panty hose, bunching at the knees, and she couldn’t help but feel a grudging admiration. It took serious mental fortitude to brave the heat of the West Texas summer dressed in nylons. Tessa herself wore nothing but a tank top and cotton sleep shorts that barely skimmed the tops of her slender thighs.
“Projection,” Dr. Regan said. “We use that term when an individual takes her own thoughts and feelings and attributes them to another person—in your case, to a celebrity.”
“But I’ve never met Eric Thorn. I’ve never even been to one of his concerts.”
Dr. Regan picked up Tessa’s thought journal and flipped to the beginning. She made no comment on the drawings scribbled across the cover: a hodgepodge of hearts, woodland creatures, and eyeless human faces. Forget projection, Tessa thought, wrinkling her nose. They should probably discuss the fact that she couldn’t even stand her own doodle-people looking at her.
Dr. Regan indicated one of Tessa’s early entries. “Tell me about this. What piqued your interest enough to write something down about him?”
“About Eric?” Tessa reached for the spiral-bound journal, and her eyes swept over the page. “I was watching TMZ, I guess. They’d caught him walking around New York City with some actress from Pretty Little Liars. So naturally they assumed he was dating her.”
“But that’s not what you wrote down.”
“Of course not. Have you seen TMZ? It’s like fan fiction but less believable.”
One of Dr. Regan’s brows quirked upward, the closest she ever came to a real facial expression. She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose. “Tell me what you wrote instead.”
Tessa pulled her knees against her chest. She felt a vague unease as she remembered how the grainy paparazzi footage had held her transfixed. Eric and that girl… He hadn’t looked like he was on a date. Not even close. The video showed him walking briskly, with a furtive glance over his shoulder as he picked up the pace. Then the camera zoomed in close. Those piercing blue eyes of his had looked straight out of the screen. And the look on his face…
“He didn’t look like some happy guy with a new girlfriend,” Tessa told her therapist. “Not to me.”
“What did he look like to you?”
Tessa closed her eyes. “Like he was scared out of his mind.”
“Good, Tessa.” Dr. Regan rewarded her with a nod. “And what do you think that might say about your own state of mind?”