‘What do you know about the guy at the clinic?’
‘Chloe started it, but now everyone’s talking about it.’
‘Talking about what?’
‘What he did. What he does. To girls, you know.’ Sophie took her phone from her back pocket. She opened Instagram and flipped the phone to show Judith. ‘See?’
All Judith saw was a sea of text.
‘What is this?’
‘It’s just comments. The post went up on Monday night, and... look... and the conversation’s been going since. Is it true? Did he rape someone?’
Judith took the phone. She scrolled through the comments and saw a stream of chatter, mostly people expressing shock or disgust or going into tangential rants about abusive men or cover-ups. There were hundreds of comments, too many by far to take in while she was standing in Sophie Nguy?n’s doorway.
‘Whose account is this? Where’s the post?’ Judith asked. She clicked out of the comments. A video started to auto-play and Judith saw a pretty girl leaning into the camera. She was wearing a tank top and sucking on a lollypop. ‘Christ. What is this?’
Sophie’s expression spoke for her. Judith was old, and stupid, and didn’t get it. Judith turned up the sound and let the video play through, then re-start. Tank top girl was talking about Robert Walker. She never used his name, but her meaning was pretty clear. She said the guy was a counsellor who worked at the university. She said he’d definitely done it before. She said she’d seen evidence.
Judith took out her phone, opened her own Instagram, typed in the name of tank top girl’s account—@ChloeTellsTheTruth—and hit follow. She handed Sophie back her phone.
‘So, is that what you’re here for?’ Sophie said. ‘Are you going to arrest him? Who’s Alexis?’ Her expression was eager now. She wanted the gossip. More than that, she wanted the social clout that would come from being the one to spread it all online. Judith leaned forward. She got close. Too close for comfort.
‘The fact that I was here is strictly confidential, do you understand? You go online and gossip about this and you will be interfering with a police investigation. That’s a serious crime.’
‘I’m not... I wouldn’t...’ Resentment flickered in Sophie’s eyes.
Judith started to walk away, reconsidered, and came back. ‘When you do post about this, keep it simple. You can say that cops were on campus today asking questions. No more, no less. Got it?’
Sophie’s eyebrows went up. Her mouth tightened, and she looked at Judith with obvious dislike, but she nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks. I mean, whatever you want.’
‘Great.’
Judith walked away.
Chapter Eight
Outside Merrill Hall, Judith sat on the steps with her phone, and watched Chloe’s video through four times. She had to admit, the girl was good at what she did. Chloe knew how to get and hold attention. Her editing was sharp, her visuals were interesting. She was helped, of course, by the fact that she had a good rack, but good looks only got you so far.
Judith lit a cigarette and watched the video for a fifth time, then she flicked back through Chloe’s posting history. The girl’s schtick seemed to be feminism for the new age. She was deliberately provocative. Her most popular post was one where she banged on about third-wave feminism and intersectionality, while wearing short shorts and a bra top with her hair in pigtails. Her look provoked the inevitable onslaught of criticism, and then the criticism provoked the inevitable rebuttals, and all the comments and counter-comments drove her engagement through the roof. Her second most popular video argued that women embracing their sexuality and enjoying it as part of their power was intrinsically feminist. In that one she wore a Britney Spears style school uniform.
Chloe was smart. Everything she posted looked casual and spur-of-the moment, but it was clearly all carefully scripted and considered. What was the source of her information? She was careful, she never mentioned Walker by name, but she talked like someone with direct knowledge. Whatever Chloe knew, Judith wanted to know too, and sooner rather than later.
Judith took a series of screenshots from Chloe’s video. Then she screen-recorded the whole thing, just in case. After that she went through the comments and took more screenshots of any particularly promising leads. Eight accounts claimed to have first-hand knowledge of Walker’s behaviour. One anonymous account holder claimed to have been assaulted herself. Two others said they’d had an uncomfortable moment with him. Four others made vague allegations, and one said that from what they knew, Walker had been at it for years. People said a lot of stuff online to get attention, so some of this might be bullshit, but some of these women might be exactly who Judith was looking for.
Judith’s phone buzzed with an incoming email. The email address [email protected] opened the email. There was an attachment—an MP4—and a brief message:I thought you should see this.Nothing else.
Judith clicked on the attachment, but her phone glitched. It couldn’t seem to load the video. She tried three times before giving up. She sent a short reply to Alexis. She didn’t want to spook the girl so she said that she seemed to have made a mistake taking down her mobile number. She asked Alexis to get in touch, and then went back to the comments on Chloe’s post.
Judith checked the profiles of the women who claimed direct knowledge. The first profile was private and fully locked down. The other two were public accounts. She messaged each of them, explaining who she was and asking them to get in touch. Her language was careful. Gentle. Reassuring. Nothing threatening here.
Judith stubbed out her cigarette. Three students walking up the steps gave her sideways looks of disgust. She wanted to tell them that if the worst thing they were going to see that day was a cigarette butt, then they were too bloody privileged to be judging anyone. She contented herself with flicking the butt at their feet as they passed her. One of them gave a little squeal of disgust, but none of them said anything. Chicken-shits.
Judith stared down at her phone. She needed to find Chloe, and talk to her directly. The problem was, she didn’t have the girl’s address, or surname, and had no obvious way of tracking down either.
Judith lit another cigarette but didn’t smoke it. She went back inside the building—this time she didn’t need to repeat her trick with the intercom, because she pushed her way in as someone else came out. She climbed the stairs to the second floor again and knocked at number fourteen. Sophie opened the door. The look of dismay on her face was almost comical.
‘I posted exactly what you said! Nothing else.’
