‘He seems all right, Dad. He’s a rower.’
Dad stands up a little taller.
‘And I met a private investigator looking into KT’s case.’
‘A what?’ says Mum. ‘How did you meet him?’
‘What did he tell you, this private investigator?’ asks Dad.
‘He’s been hired by Columbia – or not by them, but indirectly, I think he said. Paid for by the foundation that funds KT’s scholarship.’
‘He’s paid by them?’ says Dad. ‘Why?’
‘I guess they’ve invested a lot of money into KT and now they’re annoyed they won’t get a long-term return. I don’t know, Dad. It all happened in the heat of the moment. He asked me who KT would hang out with, same kinds of questions Martinez asked us all. This investigator used to be a policeman, apparently.’
‘Used to be?’ says Mum.
Dad takes a call from his bank manager and marches down the hall.
‘He’s going stir-crazy in this tiny room,’ says Mum.
I look inside their room and it’s only about forty per cent larger than mine.
‘You should have stayed in the Best Western,’ I say.
‘I wish we could have.’
I look up at the stained ceiling.
‘Your father’s trying to negotiate a voluntary liquidation agreement with creditors. Some kind of payment plan. We shouldn’t even be here in the first place. He’s under a lot of stress, your dad.’
‘Not just him – you as well.’
‘We’re tougher, though,’ she says.
We hug. The carpet smells of bleach, and the silhouette of Dad backlit by the hall light grows as we hold each other tight.
‘I just want her killer caught,’ she whispers. ‘Locked away forever.’
‘Me too.’
‘Violet Roseberry emailed me asking for your contact details,’ she says. ‘She found us through the company website. I think she wants to get in touch. She said she has some of Katie’s things for you. I gave her your details, I hope that’s OK.’
‘Sure. I’ll take ten minutes and reply to her now.’
‘We’ll see you down in the diner. Want us to order for you?’
‘No, I might need a little more time so don’t wait for me.’
‘Of course we’ll wait for you, Molly,’ says Mum. ‘We’ll have tea until you get there. You take as much time as you need.’
I go into my room. Baseball bat, hornet spray, knife.
Three new emails. Two spam. One from Violet Roseberry asking if we can meet. Giving me her number and Scott’s number in case I need help while I’m in the city. I reply suggesting we meet late this afternoon. She says five p.m. outside the West Side YMCA, next to the park. I say OK, see you there.
And then I search in my folder for old messages from KT.
4,773 emails.
Usually we texted or FaceTimed, but we often forwarded articles and links to each other. Sometimes we didn’t even stop to think if the other twin would want to read the piece; we just automatically forwarded it. We were two sides of the same double helix. I don’t know how many times we emailed the same article to each other at the exact same time. What I find interesting she usually finds interesting. Found interesting.
One message isn’t from her Gmail or her King’s College account or her Columbia account. It’s a single email from [email protected]. The message dates from last year and it’s blank. It doesn’t even say test. I can see I replied to it with, ‘This you, KT?’ and she never responded so I assumed it was spam or phishing. But 999 was her favourite number, so maybe it was a spare account.
I Google FortressMail. Still exists. Operates out of Panama. They talk a lot on the site FAQs about end-to-end encryption and open source and VPN technology and how there are no records or IP logs kept. I try to log in with her username. I use mollyraven as a password and it fails. Apparently I have four more attempts. I try katiemolly and mollykatie but they both fail. Two more attempts. We had a language as kids – not a very sophisticated one, but aged six or seven we used to use opposites or sometimes drop the first letter from each word. KT and I could talk at normal speed, or, eventually, even faster, and our parents could never keep up. I try atie. Incorrect. One attempt remaining. I try olly.
It works.
This inbox has 774 emails, 773 of which have been read.
Her sent items folder has 592 emails.
Her deleted folder is empty.
Her drafts folder has one email.