The Anomaly(58)

“So she does it on a computer instead of her phone.”

“Maybe. But now check the photos.”

The Photo app was on the top row of the home screen. I clicked on the most recent picture, feeling like an intruder. It was a not-great shot of everyone getting ready to board the raft yesterday morning. “So?”

“Scroll back.”

I rolled up through the pictures, going back in time. There were a few more of the group in various locales, some shots of the canyon, the river, the raft. Typical this is what I’m doing and seeing shots from someone basically on vacation. Then the one of her and me posing near the trailhead, and finally the picture of her husband and kid she’d shown us.

“I don’t get it, Gemma.”

“I only looked at her photos because the Facebook thing intrigued me. Like you say, there’s no actual law that people have to be on social media, or have the apps on their phone. But it seemed weird to me. So I snooped. And the first one on there, well, you’ve seen it.”

“Yes. I’ve seen it before. She showed it to Molly and me. So what?”

“Okay, two things. Apart from trip photos and that one of you and her, that’s the only picture.”

“So it’s a new phone, Gemma. And that’s the first picture she took because she wants her family with her at all times. That’s the least surprising thing I’ve ever seen. It’s how moms roll. And that’s also maybe why there’s not a bunch of other apps. Either she didn’t have time or it’s her first smartphone—or whatever, and who cares?”

“Look at the picture properly.”

I tapped and it filled the screen. I saw what I’d seen before. A blandly good-looking guy with a hipster beard, laughing with a kid. “Just spell it out, Gemma.”

“Doesn’t it look kind of posed?”

“Of course they posed.”

“But don’t their clothes look very well matched?”

“Well…kinda.”

“And aren’t they unusually well lit?”

I inspected the photo more closely. It had been taken in late afternoon, and you could tell where the sun had been in the sky from the long shadows. But yes, it seemed like there’d been a second light source, too, because there were no hard shadows on the subjects’ faces.

“So she got lucky. Or used fill-in flash.”

“Judging by how crooked all her other shots are, I’m not sure she’s at the fill-in-flash level, Nolan.”

“Someone else took it, then.”

“Christ, have it your way. But here’s the real thing. I know that guy.”

“You know Feather’s husband?”

“Aha.” She held up a finger. “I didn’t say that. And I don’t know him know him. But I’ve seen him before. Several times. And we were at the same party once.”

“Seriously? When?”

“When I covered fashion. He’s a model, Nolan.”

“So…”

“Who lives in San Francisco.”

“But—”

“For God’s sake, Nolan. He’s gay. He’s a gay model who’s gay and that’s not a family photo. It’s a magazine fashion shot.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m actually eighty percent certain it would be for the Sundance collection, because the fabrics look familiar. And there are no contacts on that phone, Nolan. No texts. No emails. No recent calls.”

“No emails? She said she’d sent the picture of me and her to her husband. Molly—you were there.”

“Yes,” Molly said. “I was. And she did say that.”

“Fine. But this really doesn’t prove anything. Maybe she’s actually single, and embarrassed about it. Or…”

Ken was standing apart from the group, staring into space—or, rather, into the blackness that surrounded our small pool of light in the center of the room. “Ken? What do you think?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Kept staring into the dark, absent-mindedly chewing his lip. “I saw you right after I got the call about Palinhem wanting someone to do a ride-along on a show. Yes?”

“Well, yeah,” I said. “You were, uh, unenthusiastic. We went drinking in Santa Monica.”

“And I ranted on. I remember. And you were all Californian about it and kept buying drinks and saying ‘It is what it is’ and you were right and eventually I got it out of my system and we moved on to other things and further alcohol. And so I don’t think I even told you about the other part.”

“What other part?”

“One of the things that came with the bump to cable was network oversight. Which also pissed me off, but we needed this. So I was asked to submit a list of subjects we were hoping to cover. Kincaid’s cavern wasn’t even on the first page of ideas, because, well, I didn’t think there was a chance in hell that we’d find it, plus it would be a more expensive trip than usual and involve serious hiking, so fuck that. But an email came smartly back saying how much they liked the sound of that one, and we should do it first, with a Palinhem ride-along.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this at the time?”

“Because it didn’t seem to matter.”