Vicky hesitated. “May I be honest?”
Wilde waited.
“I don’t like it. Showing you the message, I mean.”
“Why?”
“There is a certain flow in the universe, and this feels like the wrong kind of cosmic disruption.”
Wilde bit back another sigh. “I don’t want to disrupt the cosmos either, but what’s more disruptive than unanswered questions? Don’t these doubts disturb the life force or something?”
Vicky thought about that.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important,” Wilde added.
She nodded and started typing. A few seconds later, Vicky frowned, paused, muttered something under her breath, and then typed some more. “That’s weird.”
“What?”
“I can’t get into Peter’s Instagram account.” She met Wilde’s eye. “It says ‘incorrect password.’”
Wilde took a step toward her. “When was the last time you signed in?”
“I don’t remember. We just keep it logged on usually, I don’t know. I’m not great with the technical stuff.”
“Did Peter handle his own social media?”
“He did by then, yes. For a while, when he and Jenn were clearing six figures a month, they hired a professional firm that took care of the advertising and endorsements.”
“Six figures a month?”
“Easily. The year Peter won the show? I’d say it was probably closer to seven figures.”
Wilde was having trouble comprehending this. “Per month?”
“Sure.” Vicky tried again and shook her head. “Maybe he changed the password. Maybe he didn’t want us to see these messages.” She blinked and turned away. “I know you mean well, Wilde, but maybe we shouldn’t do this.”
Vicky was shutting down. Wilde had an idea.
“Okay, let’s forget that for now,” he said. “Do you have access to his email?”
“Yes.”
“Have you checked it?”
“Not recently. Why would I?”
“There could be something in there. If we see, for example, he’s sent an email in the past few weeks—”
“He rarely emailed. He was more a text guy.”
“But it’s worth a check, don’t you think? Maybe he reached out to someone. Maybe someone reached out to him.”
Vicky reopened the browser and clicked the Gmail account icon. Her own email address popped up, so she clicked over it and typed in one beginning with PBennett447, and then she typed in his password. Her eyes scanned down the inbox.
“Anything stand out?” Wilde asked.
She shook her head. “The new stuff is all mailing lists or business related. Nothing’s been opened since Peter vanished.”
Wilde noticed that she said “vanished” this time, rather than “dead.”
“Check the ‘sent’ tab,” Wilde said, though that wasn’t the real reason he’d had her sign in to her brother’s email. This was just a diversion now—Wilde had already gotten what he wanted from Vicky Chiba. “See if he sent anything.”
She clicked per his request. “Nothing new or relevant.”
“Do we know if he spoke or communicated with anyone after he left?”
“I checked his phone. He didn’t use it.”
“How about your siblings?”
She shook her head. “Kelly lives down in Florida with her husband and three kids. She said she hasn’t spoken to Peter in months. And Silas, well, they were the two babies, but Silas was always jealous of Peter. You know how it is. Peter was better looking, more popular, the better athlete. Anyway, I think the last time Peter and Silas talked was when we all appeared on the show.”
“You were all on Love Is a Battlefield?”
Vicky nodded. “There’s an episode toward the end called ‘Homefront.’ The finalists introduce Jenn to their families, so it was just Peter and Big Bobbo.”
“Big Bobbo?”
“That was the other finalist. Bob Jenkins. He called himself Big Bobbo. Anyway, the producers want your entire family there and they want drama. We were supposed to be skeptical and interrogate Jenn, you know, make a commotion. The producers wanted all three siblings there. Silas didn’t like it.”
“But he still went?”
“Yes. The money was good, and they gave us a free stay at this cool resort in Utah, so he figured, Why not? But once he was there, Silas just sulked. I don’t think he said two words. He became a pretty popular meme.”