Page 110 of Forever Gone

Most were meaningless combinations of words and numbers. RiverGlass. MountainMoth27. QuietRoom. JuniperBlue. Some accounts had public biographies. Most did not. Because HearthSpace no longer retained historical source IP addresses, it could not match the victims’ connections directly to usernames. Under HearthSpace’s retention policy, source IP data was discarded after twenty-four hours. By the time Kelly’s preservation request arrived, the relevant records had already been overwritten.

The order instead required the company to identify accounts active during the exact connection timestamps supplied by the regional provider and to produce records from closed communities shared by multiple candidate accounts. The correlation still returned thousands of usernames, many registered through masked email services.

The internet provider’s logs showed when the victims’ homes connected to HearthSpace.

HearthSpace could not tell him which usernames had made those connections.

Connor searched the three women’s names. No results.

He searched their email addresses. Nothing.

The briefing-room door opened.

Cheryl entered carrying a small plate covered with plastic wrap and a fork tucked beneath it.

“I thought I’d bring you some fuel.”

Connor leaned back from the screens. “What is it?”

“Apple pie.”

She placed it beside the keyboard.

"It was baked yesterday, and it's been in the refrigerator since, but it should still be nice."

“Thanks.” Connor lifted the plastic. Cinnamon and cooked apple rose from the slice. “Your pies always are, Cheryl.”

She remained in the doorway, one shoulder resting against the frame.

“You know, they always told me the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but no matter how hard I try...”

The sentence faded with a small smile.

Connor watched her for a moment.

Curled hair fell around her shoulders. Deep red lipstick suited the dark blouse beneath her cardigan. The fitted skirt and soft fabric outlined a figure she made no attempt to hide.

It would be easy.

Cheryl had a hard edge when the station needed one, but loyalty sat beneath it. She remembered birthdays, covered shifts without complaint, and carried casseroles to families who had lost someone. She was attractive, interested, and standing close enough that Connor could end the loneliness with one careless decision.

The house would no longer be silent when he returned.

An empty bed would become a shared one. There would be someone to hear what the day had done to him, someone to tell about the small victories and the fears he kept behind his badge.

Cheryl wanted to be with him.

Would that solve it?

Connor already knew the answer.

Cheryl deserved someone who loved her for herself, not a man trying to fill a wound that had remained open since Selena left. Wanting comfort was not the same as wanting the person offering it.

He lowered the plastic wrap over the pie.

“Cheryl...”

She crossed the room before he found the rest.