HART: Wait. Then who are you talking about?
INVESTIGATOR: Tessa, the person you’ve been chatting with on Twitter was not Blair Duncan. We believe that Mr. Duncan began following your Twitter account at some point during the time that he was stalking you. He was still following you when you left New Orleans and changed your username from @TessaHart to @TessaHeartsEric. He changed his own username at one point to @TheRealEricT and tweeted at you repeatedly in an attempt to engage you in conversation.
HART: I remember that. That weird Eric Thorn impersonator account. I muted it. That was him?
INVESTIGATOR: From what we can gather, he became frustrated when you didn’t follow him back and then even more enraged when he saw you followed @EricThornSucks. However, he was not the owner of the @EricThornSucks account.
HART: But he knew everything we talked about. He knew so many details.
INVESTIGATOR: We believe he became aware of your private messages with @EricThornSucks in September. If you recall, on September 20 at 11:25 p.m., @EricThornSucks tweeted publicly, and I quote: “@TessaHeartsEric I swear I’m not a bad guy. Talk to me? Please?” You then exchanged a few more public tweets, culminating with another tweet from @EricThornSucks stating, and I quote: “@TessaHeartsEric what happened? Follow me back so we can DM.”
HART: And then I followed him.
INVESTIGATOR: That public exchange apparently alerted Mr. Duncan to your ongoing private correspondence with @EricThornSucks. Mr. Duncan then hacked into the @EricThornSucks account.
HART: But wait. Then why…why didn’t he just hack my account to begin with?
INVESTIGATOR: He was able to guess the password on the @EricThornSucks account. You know, you should really have a talk with your boyfriend about cybersecurity. You would think someone in his position would know better—
HART: What are you talking about? What boyfriend? Do you mean Scott?
INVESTIGATOR: I apologize. He described your relationship as romantic in nature.
HART: Who? Blair? He’s delusional!
INVESTIGATOR: No, I’m sorry. I meant—
HART: I’m so confused. You’re telling me there’s actually a Taylor. A real Taylor? You’ve actually talked to him?
INVESTIGATOR: He’s here in the station. Who do you think alerted the authorities tonight? In fact, we owe him one for intercepting Blair Duncan fleeing the scene. Roughed him up pretty good, probably more than necessary, but—
HART: Wait. He’s still here? Right now? He’s here in the station?
INVESTIGATOR: Yes. He gave us a lengthy statement. He’s anxious to speak with you.
HART: Is his name really Taylor?
INVESTIGATOR: No.
INVESTIGATOR 2: Chuck, go easy. She’s had a long day already.
INVESTIGATOR: Well, this should be interesting.
HART: What? What should be interesting?
INVESTIGATOR: Tessa, would you like us to bring him in here to meet you?
HART: Yes!
INVESTIGATOR: OK. I’ll go get him. But, Tessa, I think you’d better sit down.
—END OF TRANSCRIPT—
28
FANGIRLING
Tessa sat alone in the empty interrogation room, her mind whirring with unanswered questions. One of the police officers had given her a scratchy gray wool blanket, and she clutched it tight around her shoulders. How was it possible, she wondered, that she wasn’t completely overcome with panic right now? She’d just stood face-to-face with her predator. How was she not a mass of quivering jelly on the floor?
Maybe the shock would hit her later. She probably shouldn’t be alone…but she wouldn’t be alone for long. Tessa’s stomach fluttered at the thought. Taylor would be with her soon. Or whatever his name was… It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he existed.
Tessa’s leg bounced nervously beneath the table. Something else still niggled at the back of her mind. Some detail didn’t add up in the story the police told her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she felt a tingle of misgiving mixed in with the anticipation. They’d overlooked something. She knew they had. But what? What could it be…
She gasped as it hit her. “They said Taylor sent the police to my house, but he couldn’t have. I never told him where I lived!”
A voice sounded behind her, and Tessa turned in her chair.
“Yeah, I think that creep was counting on it that I didn’t have your address.”
Tessa’s grip on the blanket slackened as her eyes focused on the face that had spoken. Her mouth fell open and then formed soundless words: Oh my God.
“I got it from my manager. He had your contact info.”
“You’re Eric Thorn,” she whispered in response.
He stood uncertainly in the doorway, waiting for her to speak. He had one hand jammed in the pocket of his leather jacket, and he ran the other hand through his shaggy mop of hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. He took a hesitant step in her direction. “Hi, Tessa.”
“You’re Eric Thorn,” she said again, a little louder.
“Eric Taylor Thorn,” he corrected with a trace of a cocky grin on his lips. “You’d think a superfan like you would know my middle name.”
“What… Why…why are you… I don’t understand.”
He pulled out the metal chair beside her and took a seat at the interrogation table. She watched him, still confused. He fished for something in his jacket pocket. At last he took it out and set it on the table.
A pink rabbit’s foot.
At the sight of it, Tessa felt the familiar choke hold of anxiety closing around her throat. She hugged the blanket tighter, her thoughts scattering. Why did he have the rabbit’s foot? Had the police given it to him? Was he here for publicity right now? Still part of the contest?
“Tessa, don’t you get it?” His hand flitted to her shoulder. “I’m Taylor. I’m the guy you were talking to all this time.”
“No, you’re not,” she said. “You’re Eric Thorn.”
“I used my middle name.”
“No!” She shrugged his hand away. The tight feeling spread to her chest now, and she forced herself to breathe.
Eric one…Eric two…
Tessa shook her head. It wasn’t working. “You’re Eric Thorn. You’re not a real person.”
Eric’s smile faltered. “What does that even mean?”
“Where’s the real Taylor? They told me there was a real Taylor.”
She turned toward the entrance of the room, expecting to see someone else, but the doorway stood empty. She cast her eyes wildly about the room, searching for answers to the questions rushing through her head. Had it all just been a game, then? She hadn’t been talking to a real guy after all? A guy who wanted to be with her? Just a pop star who liked to amuse himself by playing tricks on unsuspecting fans?
“No, Tessa. You’re not hearing me…”
She stopped listening as her gaze landed on his face. The corners of his mouth kept twitching. Was he laughing?
“No,” she whispered. “It isn’t true. Please tell me this is a joke.”
“It’s not a joke,” he said, even as his smile deepened.