Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"At this time, Miss Kendall is reviewing a photograph of Rory Clark," Detective Lewis says. He's silent for a moment and then, "Do you recognize him, Miss Kendall?"
"No," I say with a shake of my head. "I'm sorry, but he doesn't look familiar to me." I hand the photograph back over to him. His fingers brush mine, causing me to jump.
He notices―I doubt much of anything escapes his attention. But he doesn't comment on it. Instead, he pulls a sheaf of papers out of the file and holds them out to me.
"Do you recognize any of these?" he asks.
I glance at the papers and then frown and look closer.
Ivy: Hey, baby. How was your day?
Rory: Way too long. I'd much rather have spent it with you.
Ivy: Same here. I need to feel your arms around me.
Rory: Soon, babe.
I shuffle through the papers. Every single one of them is full of messages between Ivy and Rory, growing hotter and more intense as the months pass by. There are photographs of me mixed in, along with more photographs of him. The last messages are awful.
Rory: I can't believe you stole from me!
Ivy: Oh, come on. You gave me your credit card.
Rory: I didn't tell you to spend 15k. You ruined my life.
Ivy: Grow up and stop being so melodramatic.
Rory: I can't pay my tuition. I'm going to get kicked out of school after this semester, Ivy.
Ivy: I said I'd pay you back. God, you act like I owe you a relationship because you gave me money. This is exactly why we didn't work out. You're so fucking clingy and whiny.
Rory: My life is over.
Ivy: Then kill yourself and get it over with.
Rory: Maybe I will.
Ivy: Oh, God, please do. The world would be better off. I know I would.
Rory: How can you say that to me?
Ivy: Easy. You're a loser.
Rory: I loved you.
Ivy: Whatever.
I flip to the next page, my heart pounding.
Rory: I'm in San Francisco.
Ivy: Good for you.
Rory: Can we talk? Please?
Ivy: No.
Rory: I can't do this without you, Ivy. I don't want to be without you.
Ivy: Too bad.
Rory: I'm going to jump off the bridge.
Ivy: Good. Don't chicken out.
Rory: I love you.
"What is this?" I ask, horrified.
"These are text messages and Facebook conversations between Rory Clark and his girlfriend, Ivy Wade."
Ivy Wade. A sick feeling gnaws in the pit of my stomach at the familiar name.
I glance up at Detective Lewis, stricken. "What happened to him?"
"That's what we're trying to find out," he says, his expression grim. "Mr. Clark disappeared from the UCLA campus where he was enrolled over a week ago. No one has seen or heard from him since."
My gaze falls to the page in front of me. The last messages were sent last Sunday morning.
I want to throw up.
"I didn't send these," I whisper, pointing at the sheaf of papers. My finger shakes.
"You don't recognize any of them?"
I shake my head.
"I need you to answer the question out loud, please."
"N-no, I don't recognize them. I didn't send any of these. I don't know this guy."
"Where did you attend college?"
"UCLA."
"When did you graduate?"
"Three years ago."
"Have you ever used any other aliases, Miss Kendall?" he asks.
My heart stops. I don't want to answer this question. I don't.
"Miss Kendall?"
"I-I modeled as Ivy Wade," I whisper.
"How long ago?"
"I haven't modeled in over three years."
"Why did you quit?"
"My dad died."
"Have you used the alias since?"
"No."
Detective Lewis is quiet for a moment.
"I didn't do this, Detective Lewis," I say, shaking my head. "I didn't date this guy or tell him to kill himself. I don't even know him!" I wring my hands together again before wrapping my arms around myself, fighting off a shiver. I don't know if he believes me or not. I'm suddenly terrified to find out.
He sighs and switches off the tape recorder.
We sit in silence for several seconds.
"At this point, we don't have any evidence suggesting that Mr. Clark followed through on his threats, but I would advise you to retain a good criminal defense lawyer, Miss Kendall."
"I don't understand."
"The phone used to send these messages is registered under your name and address, and your photographs are included in the messages. It pinged off the same towers as your phone at roughly the same time on multiple different days. If Mr. Clark isn't found safe and sound, you're going to have a lot of explaining to do."
"W-what does that mean?"
He holds my gaze. "It means you can and will be charged with manslaughter if he took that leap from the bridge."
Oh my god.
This isn't happening. It can't be.
My breath rattles in my chest in a painful wheeze. My throat closes up on me, terror sitting like a ball inside of it. I don't even jaywalk. Now I'm going to be charged with murder? I'm dreaming. I have to be dreaming.