So many possibilities. Bianca’s head is spinning with them, along with the caffeine and sugar she’s been inhaling since yesterday.
She scans through the latest posts on Reddit. Manhunts are like an all-points bulletin for the true-crimers, and they don’t disappoint. Someone is collecting a list of cameras in Fair Valley. Traffic cams mostly, since security cams aren’t available to the general public, along with the public cameras from a nearby nature preserve. Just in case Wes happens to appear on one of them.
She flips back and forth between Reddit and watching the local news, constantly switching channels to keep up on all the stations. Each one has come up with their own name, starting with “Hunt for a Killer.” Another calls it “Search for Wes,” and a third has named it “Fair Valley Manhunt.”
Still nothing interesting from the helicopter cam. No activity at Wes’s house. A second helicopter flies over downtown Fair Valley. She takes a bite of her cake and goes back to Reddit. The site has actually been really helpful. Without it, she might not have found the date that picture of the 4Runner was taken.
Originally, she had gone to a photography subreddit to see if there was anything she was missing. Turns out there was. She learned about it after reading a conversation with someone named PhotoKid10.
Sucks that IG strips the data.
They all do, bro.
Bianca had no idea what they were talking about. She may be good at searching through emails, offices, and schedules, but she is not a techie. Unfortunately. It would’ve come in handy a number of times over the years.
She knew even less about photos or the data they were talking about, so she asked PhotoKid10. His answer came quick.
Exif data. IG strips it when you post a pic.
What about when you email a picture? she asked.
It’s usually there, unless the photo has been edited.
That was all she needed. A quick Google search showed her how to find the data in a photo. So easy it was almost embarrassing. Good thing she didn’t ask PhotoKid10 about that.
She looked up the data on the picture of Wes in the 4Runner. It had been taken on July 10, six days before Joey Fisher died. She also found the exact location of where the photo was taken, along with a bunch of technical data that didn’t make any sense to her.
Bianca had included all of it in her email to Karen. It was the first time she had felt useful in a while.
Getting Abigail to help was the second time.
When she had been here, wearing that Creamsicle outfit, Bianca had opened her tablet and pulled up Abigail’s IG page.
“You recently followed a new account. One that doesn’t have any posts,” Bianca said.
Abigail’s eyes widened.
“There isn’t really a name on the account,” Bianca said. “Just the initials ‘JTS.’？”
“What is this? What are you doing?”
Bianca didn’t stop to answer the question, because that would’ve screwed her up. She had prepared exactly what she wanted to say to Abigail. A script. And she needed to follow it.
“The profile picture is a sunset,” Bianca said. “So perfect it could almost be a stock photo. Like this person really doesn’t want to be identified. But the thing is, when I did a search for that picture, it came up on another account as a post on their feed. Same picture, different account.” She held up her tablet for Abigail to see. “Jeremy T. Scoggins. JTS.”
Abigail sat up a little straighter. “I don’t see why any of this is relevant.”
“And the thing about Jeremy T. Scoggins is . . . ,” Bianca said, scrolling through his public, real account. She stopped on a wedding picture and held it up. “He’s married.”
Abigail shrugged. “So?”
“Would you mind if I contacted this guy’s wife and asked about this other account?”
“Why would I mind?”
“On social media, these alternate accounts can be set up for a lot of reasons,” Bianca said. “To spy on someone. To be incognito. Even celebrities have finstas. But this JTS account was set up by a married man. Sometimes they do that to communicate with someone through the DMs. Like when they’re having an affair, they use DMs instead of texts so they can’t be seen by the service provider for the phone.” Bianca pulled up the JTS account again and turned the tablet toward Abigail. “This guy has one follower. And he only follows one account.”
Her heart was pounding, and she hoped Abigail couldn’t tell. Bianca was experienced at snooping, but blackmail was new to her. She forced herself to do it for Joey.
Abigail looked from the tablet to Bianca, and she smiled. “Nice work. And I get it. You want something, so you found something on me.” She paused, holding up one finger as she leaned forward. “But here’s the problem. That man, the one you discovered? He doesn’t mean enough to me. I’m not going to protect him, and I don’t care if you blow up his marriage.”
Of all the responses Bianca had prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. She was sure—no, she was positive—that the man in Abigail’s life was her weak spot. But not even close.
Her plan wasn’t going to work. When Bianca realized this, she burst into tears.
Abigail touched her on the shoulder. “Talk to me.”
Bianca did. She told her the whole story of Joey, from the time they met in high school to how he died. Including when the police stopped investigating his case.
“Wes,” Bianca said. “That detective thinks Wes did it, but she doesn’t have enough evidence to arrest him.”
“She’s sure about this?”
Bianca nodded. It was Wes. Had to be.
Silence from Abigail. It went on for so long Bianca had no idea what to think. Maybe she was going to walk out. Maybe she would call the police and report her.
She didn’t.
“Then let’s get this bastard,” Abigail said.
75
Wes looks from the phone to Abigail, still not getting the connection with Bianca. The gun pointed at him is a little distracting. He isn’t stupid, but his brain definitely isn’t working at full capacity.
They stare at each other until Abigail sighs. “You know, I stood up for you. At first, anyway. I called that detective and told her there was no way you would stalk anyone.”
“So what changed?”
Abigail nods toward the phone on the floor. “Before you were arrested, Bianca called me.” She tilts her head to the side, looking at Wes. “You didn’t know her very well, did you?”
“If you’re asking if I knew her the way I know you, no.”
“I’m not talking about sex.”
“No,” he says. “I never really knew her.”
“She knew a lot about you,” Abigail says. “Including that parking sticker in your desk.”
Parking sticker. He hasn’t thought about that for a long time. Forgot he even had it.
He shouldn’t have.
The sticker was for a garage downtown, the expensive kind that charged by the hour. Wes and Ivy didn’t have the money for it, but Ivy had a friend who worked for the company. She gave Ivy a sticker, and they used it every time they needed a place to park downtown.
It was one of the only things Ivy kept from the 4Runner before pushing it into the lake.