Does she have actual proof that Townsend did something? No, not really. Just a ring, and a speeding car, and an unnerving story about a violent teen with a paintball gun. Putting him on blast on the internet may be a massive mistake, but he’s her only lead. And if she’s going to get people’s attention, she needs to give them something substantial. She knows this, because she’s dying for something substantial to hold onto herself.
Alongside the screenshot, she adds a brief comment:Saw this on Amanda’s IG last week. Anyone got info on this Townsend Fuller guy?
Kaitlyn waits for a moment, then she refreshes the page. Nothing—but what did she expect? The internet is vast, and her missing sister isjust another contribution to the unrelenting stream of sob story clickbait. This tragedy isn’t singular enough to cut through the noise.
The workday is endless, but eventually, Kaitlyn returns home. There she checks the page again and finds a miracle: A new comment has appeared on the thread under the screenshot.
She blinks in disbelief; is it just another troll? But this post from LivingstonTheDream seems to be genuine:I’ve actually met him. I work in VC and he pitched his healthcare startup, AutoInTune, to us last week. It was kind of a shitshow TBH. The user metrics seem like bullshit.
Once again, she refreshes the page. Another comment pops up from a different account.That does sound sus IMO. Plus his picture gives me the ick. Total psychopath vibes.
Then another. And then another.
Finally, she thinks. People are listening. Peoplecare.
Chapter Eight
Meera
Meera doesn’t want to sayI told you so—but the longer she listens to Talia speak, the more tempted she is to say it.
Meera expected to hear what she usually hears from Talia during their postweekend catch-ups: gushing proclamations about how thoughtful Townsend was, and how kind he was, and how well he treated her. She certainly didn’t expect a story about an encounter with the police and a missing ex-girlfriend.
It’s Monday, and the two are grabbing coffee at Mañana around the corner from the Cuff office before heading into work. From their table facing the door, Meera can see all the techy folks bustling in to grab their morning cold brew or cold-pressed juice before heading off to their jobs at Meta and Google. She loves working in the Seaholm District, with its stark industrial aesthetic and energized feel. What she doesn’t love: the idea of her best friend falling even deeper for a guy she knows to be bad news.
But instead of saying this—orI told you so—Meera says, “Tal, do you hear yourself? This is insane.”
“I know, I know.” Talia shakes her head. “But he was just as surprised by the police showing up at his door as I was. He didn’t seem tohave any idea Amanda was missing—he just thought she was in Europe. He said they haven’t texted at all since their breakup.”
“And you believe him?”
“Yes, I do. He even showed the police their text history to prove it.”
“He could have just deleted all their recent texts.”
Meera sees a flash of annoyance in Talia’s eyes. “Yeah, and he could be having sex with five other girls behind my back. But I choose not to assume the worst in people.”
It’s becoming increasingly common for their conversations to take a turn like this, to go from light and playful to tense and strained with little warning. Meera hates it. She wants things to return to the way they were before Townsend reentered the picture.
Like most women Meera knows, Talia jumps into relationships with both feet. (Meera doesn’t judge her for this; it seems so long ago now, but surely her own relationship with Hari started off just as intensely.) When Talia first met Townsend, he was all she could talk about, all she could think about—and in Talia’s eyes, he could seemingly do no wrong. For six months this continued until things blew up in her face, and while their breakup didn’t bring Meera any pleasure (what kind of friend would she be if she delighted in Talia’s heartbreak?), it was a relief to have conversations revolve around something other than the life-and-death dramatics of Talia’s relationship again. They could finally just shoot the shit about trivial matters—like who killed The Notorious B.I.G. and whether or not Beyoncé pooped. They could just be Talia and Meera, two smart, accomplished women whose moods weren’t dictated by the amount of time it took a man to reply to their text messages.
But now Townsend is back, and if anything, his hold on Talia is even more powerful than it was the first time around. Because Meera has never seen Talia in a relationship with someone else, it’s hard to say whether Townsend possesses some formidable influence or this is just the way Talia is with men. Either way, the dynamic makes Meerauneasy. It’s like sitting in the passenger seat of a car that’s destined to crash; there’s nothing she can do but brace for impact.
Eager to restore a genial mood, Meera says, “It’s called hostile attribution bias, apparently. Hari accused me of having it right around the time we got divorced. I’m just a mean ol’ misanthropist. That’s why I need you, my little optimist, to balance me out.”
Talia smiles at her from across the table. “Happy to be of service.”
Her annoyance seems to have been forgotten; Meera knows she should leave well enough alone. But still, she can’t ignore a certain nagging thought. “I hate to bring this up, but as a misanthropist, I have to ask something.”
“Uh-oh.” Talia takes a sip of her coffee and then leans back, crossing her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
“Have you considered the possibility that Townsend has talked to Amanda through something other than text?”
“Like what? Carrier pigeon?”
“He still has an active Cuff account, Tal. What if they’ve been messaging through the app?”
A strange look crosses Talia’s face—Meera can’t tell if she’s shocked by this idea or about to sneeze. After a beat, she asks, “How would I find that out?”
