Two messages from Mum. One is a photo of her, taken by Dad, sitting on the floor of our living room outside Nottingham surrounded by photo albums. Her eyes are red and wet but she’s smiling. In her hand is a photo taken at school the week we turned six. Matching outfits, matching pigtails, matching poses. The other message is her asking if I’m OK and if I’m eating. If I have enough warm clothes.
At 46th Street I head west a couple of blocks.
Three missed calls.
One from Martinez.
I call him back and he picks up on the second ring.
‘You OK, Molly?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
‘OK, that’s good. Listen, we may have a significant breakthrough on the case. We’ve had a witness come forward, a reliable one from what I’ve seen.’
I stop walking and two people bump into me and one of them turns and says, ‘Watch it.’
My temples throb. ‘What’s the lead?’
Don’t say it’s me. Do not say you want me to come down to the precinct.
‘I can’t say just yet but I’m working on getting a slot on Crimestoppers tonight, on network TV. High dollar reward for information, the works. I wanted to let you know that we’re working round the clock here, Molly. I give you my word.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Your parents OK?’
‘Yes, they’re back home now.’
‘When are you flying back to England? Soon?’
‘Next week.’
‘Right. I’ll text you with the details of the Crimestoppers show if it comes off. No promises, but I pulled a few strings, called in a favour, you know.’
‘I’ll watch it in the hostel,’ I say.
‘You still in the Bedfordshire Midtown?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You take care, Molly. Any concerns or questions you call me, OK?’
I find a Starbucks but I choose not to go inside. Another block over there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts. I step inside.
Two hours later I’ve drunk three cups of coffee and one glass of bottled mineral water, and I’ve eaten two donuts. Four out of five things have been crossed off my mental to-do list. I’ve edited and pieced together all the stock footage, screenshots, Reddit posts and photographs I’ve collected relating to Shawn Bagby’s incel past. It’s not the violent misogyny that will ruin his reputation. It’s not even the direct threats to women or the death threats made to so-called Chads. It’s the snarky comments about his own followers. A loyal subscriber will forgive many things: a lack of uploads, poor audio quality, lapses of judgement, ethical mistakes, proven cruelty. But ridicule your own subscribers, the people who watch your vlogs day in, day out, who see the embedded adverts that pollute each clip, who put food on your table through ad revenue, and you are done for.
A man walks into Dunkin’ Donuts. He looks more Californian than New Yorker. Baseball cap, board shorts, work boots, light grey V-neck shirt. I hear him order. He’s Australian, not American. He has beach-tousled hair and the back of his neck is tanned deep brown. When he stretches to one side I see the V-cut of his lower abdominal muscles and I am entranced. That line. It reminds me of Scott. The area where his hip meets the side of his torso. The indentation.
I pick up my phone.
‘Scott, it’s me, Molly.’
He talks, but I can hardly understand because he’s chewing something. He apologises for eating and talking.
‘I want to see you again before I leave New York.’
‘Sure, great idea.’
My breathing quickens.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever be coming back, so I want to say goodbye. Have a night out, one to remember. Are you up for something like that?’
‘I’m a student in New York City. I’m up for anything.’
‘Tonight?’
I don’t want to want him this way.
‘No can do, sorry. I have this thing, see, with my study group.’
‘Tomorrow night, then?’
‘Tomorrow is Halloween, Molly.’
‘I want to say goodbye to you properly,’ I say. ‘Fully.’
There’s a pause on the line.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he says. ‘Just, with your sister and all. With Katie. I mean . . .’
‘It’s because of her that I want to see you, Scott.’
‘Oh . . . I don’t understand?’
‘You’re grieving, I know you are. I’m grieving as well. Being together . . .’ I hush my voice and turn my face away from a teenage guy who’s obviously eavesdropping. ‘We should be together. One time before I fly away. I want to be with you.’