Heart-Shaped Hack(71)

The subject line said, You have one new message.

Kate would have to log on to her dating account to read the message, but since she had no desire or interest in doing so, she deleted the e-mail notification.

The next day while sitting at her desk, she received another notification. You have one new message.

At Ian’s request, Kate had not deleted her account. But the thought of dating anyone made her physically ill, and the last thing she wanted was a constant reminder of her single status. She opened a browser on her phone and logged on to her account. Kate had modified her preferences so that she’d no longer receive alerts, but all the notification settings had been turned back on. She jabbed at the drop-down menu to turn them off again. Deciding it was time to remove her profile permanently, she went in search of the delete button.

“Kate? Can you unlock the back door for a delivery?”

“Sure,” she said, setting the phone aside to dig the keys out of her pocket. She walked to the back and forgot about deleting the account until the next day when she received another notification shortly after returning to her apartment after work.

You have one new message.

Once again, she logged on to her dating account.

Once again, all notifications were back on.

Irritated, she clicked over to the actual messages, wondering who was being so persistent. After taking a look, she would delete the account as planned. Kate expected to find dozens of messages, but there were only three, all of which had come in since she’d received the first alert two days ago, and all from the same person.

Someone named Rion Bodoh.

Rion? Kate thought.

She went to his profile, but there was no picture and no bio.

She clicked on the first message:

I would really like to connect with you.

Kate deleted it and the second message filled the screen.

Please, I would really like the chance to get to know you.

Kate deleted that one too.

The final message filled the screen.

All I’m asking is for a simple response to let me know you’re receiving my messages. If you’re not interested in getting to know me, please tell me and I won’t write to you again.

Kate tapped out a short reply, hoping it would end his attempts to engage her in conversation.

Yes, I’ve received your messages. I have no interest in meeting or dating anyone. I am deleting this account.

The sound of the e-mail alert chimed in her hand almost immediately.

You have one new message.

In the interest of being polite, she’d done what he’d asked. But of course “Ryan” with the weird spelling hadn’t held up his end of the bargain.

They never did.

I can’t tell you how happy I am that you responded. I’d really like to get to know you. I like your glasses. They make you look very smart.

Her glasses?

Kate clicked over to her profile. Her bio was still the one Ian had written, but she inhaled sharply when she noticed the picture, remembering exactly when Ian had taken it.

She’d been lying in bed next to him, hair tousled, eyes half-closed, lips turned up slightly in a satisfied smile, naked under the covers. He’d reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped the picture. When he showed it to her, he said, “This is my new favorite picture of you. I love it because I’m the one who put that look on your face. God, Kate. You are so beautiful.”

She remembered how after he’d shown her the picture, he’d pulled back the covers and asked if he could take one more. “For my eyes only,” he said.

She’d said yes.

Now the picture had been cropped to show only her face and rotated so it appeared she was sitting upright.

And she was wearing glasses.

Nice, normal glasses.

How long after New Year’s Eve—when her profile photo had still been a picture of her driving the Shelby—had Ian changed it?

It made sense he’d choose his favorite photo of her, especially because he was the only one who knew the circumstances behind it.

But when had he added the glasses?

And why?

Her irritation was replaced by curiosity. She’d never needed glasses in her life, so what significance did they bring to the photo? Ian was the one who wore glasses, not her. She thought back to the first time she’d seen him wearing them.

“Are the glasses a disguise? Because I totally knew it was you.”

“The glasses are real. I often suffer from eyestrain since I spend so much time on the computer, and I was up late last night, working.”

“They make you look very smart.”

It’s a coincidence, she told herself. That’s all it is.

Her phone chimed again. You have one new message.

Kate clicked over to her account, her finger shaking slightly.

Please don’t delete your account. I’ll wait.

Wait for what? Wait until she figured it out? She set the phone on the coffee table and leaned away from it, hugging her knees to her chest. Believing the messages had anything to do with Ian was a dangerous line of thinking and would rip off the scab that had only recently formed over her grief. Did she think he had somehow figured out how to communicate from the grave?

I’ll wait.

For my eyes only.

Rion Bodoh

The name stumped her even more than the glasses. It was too odd not to have significance. There was something she was supposed to see.