Little Secrets(75)
“I can’t. I deleted the app, and when I did, it deleted all the data.”
“That’s too bad.” Castro’s pen stops. “I understand, of course, but those texts would have been helpful.”
A thought occurs to Marin then. “They might have saved to the cloud on my computer. All my devices connect to the same backup. Want me to check?”
“Yes, please, that would be great. If the messages are there, send me everything. I’m guessing there isn’t that much. You’ve only had the app for a week.”
Not even a week.
“No problem,” Marin says.
Again, the PI misreads her tone. “Don’t worry. This likely has nothing to do with Sebastian, but I might as well be thorough. I’m assuming you can’t ask Derek what he knows about McKenzie’s whereabouts—”
“He doesn’t know that I know anything about her,” Marin says, before the investigator can finish. “We haven’t discussed the affair at all, and I don’t plan to.”
A slight pause. “Are you and Derek … Do you think his relationship with her is over?”
“I really feel like it is.” It’s the most honest way Marin can answer. “Obviously I don’t know for certain, but we had a pretty wonderful getaway together. He planned the whole thing, and it feels like … a fresh start.”
Castro doesn’t respond to this. Marin can only imagine what the other woman is thinking. She can feel her judgment oozing through the phone line, because that’s what women do to each other. They judge. And she’s betting Castro thinks she let Derek off the hook way too easily. It’s what Marin would be thinking if their situations were reversed.
She’s compelled to break the awkward silence. “Let me know what you turn up?”
“Of course,” the PI says.
They say their goodbyes and disconnect. Marin grabs her MacBook from the nightstand. She can’t remember McKenzie’s roommate’s name, but she knows she saw it somewhere in Castro’s notes. It takes her a minute to find it, and after she does, she opens Safari and clicks on Facebook. She types Tyler Jansen into the search box, and Facebook responds with a list of Tyler Jansens. The one she’s looking for is the first one, since Facebook’s creepy algorithm already knew that she’d clicked on McKenzie’s profile a bunch of times, and, being her roommate, Tyler is connected to McKenzie on Facebook.
She didn’t realize Tyler was Filipino, which goes to show you can’t tell anything about a person from their name. He’s handsome, mid-twenties, and well-built in his profile picture. It looks like he’s tending bar and having a great time doing it. His settings are public, and when Marin clicks into his profile, his post about his roommate’s disappearance is at the very top.
He’s uploaded a picture of the two of them sitting on the couch with her cat wedged between them. Underneath the photo he’s written: If anyone’s talked to McKenzie Li, tell her to text her roommate, because this shit ain’t funny.
Tyler made the post earlier this morning. There are over two dozen comments, and Marin scrolls through them all, thinking that this was what Vanessa Castro must have been doing right before she called. Based on the questions from various friends and Tyler’s responses, McKenzie’s roommate hasn’t seen her in two days. Apparently, it isn’t abnormal for her to be gone for a night or two, but even if she forgets to tell him in advance—which he says she does a lot—she always responds to his texts. She blew off a dinner date last night, and this morning, despite several texts, has still not checked in. And she always does, even when she knows he’s mad at her.
Marin doesn’t understand any of this. If she’s not responding to her roommate, then she must really be missing. She’s really gone.
Oh Jesus.
She checks Instagram. McKenzie’s last post was Saturday night, and it was a selfie taken at home with her cat and a can of something that looks like beer, but on closer inspection is actually hard cider. Nothing since then, which, from what Marin’s observed, would also be cause for alarm, since McKenzie posts something every damn day.
She logs in to the cloud, and after a couple of minutes figures out where the Shadow app data is stored. It’s conveniently in one file, and she emails it to Castro. Whatever the PI might be thinking about Derek, he had nothing whatsoever to do with this. This is all on Marin.
She needs to find out what Julian has done. And the only person who can help her is Sal. She texts him.
You alive?
Haha, he replies. As much as I can be in Prosser.
You’re back there again? Marin is surprised. Everything ok with your mom?
We’re at the hospital, he texts. She’s having tests. For the brain injury.
Damn it. She doesn’t want to ask him about Julian while he’s at the hospital.
Send her my love, Marin texts. When are you home?
Tonight. I’ll be at the bar.
I’ll come by, she types. We need to talk.
The three dots flicker, disappear, then flicker again. Sal can’t seem to decide what to say to that. Finally, he replies. OK.
Whatever Sal knows about Julian and McKenzie—if he knows anything at all—will have to wait.
The rest of the day passes quickly, thanks to a packed schedule at the salon. She finishes with her last VIP client at eight p.m., but she accidently got hair color on her dress, so she’ll have to go home to change before heading out to see Sal.