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A lot of posts preceded her disappearance. That didn’t exclude her completely, but one thing about the mystery killer’s victims was their lack of warning signs before vanishing.
“Do you think…?”
“Let’s check the others.”
The next one was more promising. Happy, positive pictures of a filled social life. Pictures of her and the boyfriend she’d had since grade school were less convincing.
“Do you think she’s another victim?” Mila asked. “That he took her?”
“Maybe.” Imogen copied the boyfriend’s name to put it into the search bar. Bringing up his information quickly solved that mystery. “Wow. Not so missing anymore.” The second potential victim’s picture was on the boyfriend’s page. Both of them sported brand new wedding bands. “That mystery’s solved.”
“That’s so sweet,” Mila said, sorrow in her voice. “I wish Steph’s story ended that way.”
“Except from what you’ve said, Bryan was no picnic.” Imogen searched the third name. “When does he want to meet?”
“I haven’t checked my email. Oh, God, do you think we missed it? I didn’t check it before we left the hotel.”
“I’m sure it’s okay. If he wants to meet and genuinely wants to help, he won’t judge you for missing it.”
And if she had, there was nothing they could do about it, so no point making her feel guilty. If the guy wasn’t genuine and wanted to hurt Mila, he’d be back in touch. Without getting a feel for him, it was tough to assess his motivation. The last thing she wanted was Mila to be disappointed or worse.
“Yvonne Ingham,” Mila said, checking out the page with her. “No pictures of a boyfriend.”
“No, but she talks about seeing someone.” Imogen pointed at the post she was reading. “A guy named Bryan.”
They made eye contact.
“That’s him. It has to be! That’s it.”
“Maybe,” Imogen said. “Unfortunately, it’s a common name. That’s not enough on its own.” Lachlan would not go to bat for her with his colleagues based on that evidence. When she took it to him, and to Steeple, she needed a slam dunk. “If there was a picture…”
Opening the page’s media stalled her.
“I don’t see any guy,” Mila said. “Scroll down.” When she did nothing, she got a nudge. “Imogen? What is it?”
“I know her,” she murmured, scrutinizing the pictures. The woman didn’t have herself in the profile picture, but she was in others. Either that or she really liked this particular friend in half a dozen pictures on the first page.
“You do? How? Are you friends?”
“No, but I know her face… I’ve seen her before.”
“Where?”
And it hit her. “Hustle.”
That woman, the one right there, had been in Hustle the first night she and Jagger visited the club. In Vex Manzani’s private suite. She was sure of it. Positive. That was a face she remembered.
“Oh my God, you went? Alone? How did you get out alive? What’s it like? Can we go there?”
Hustle was definitely back on her to-do list. Right along with finding the hotel Jagg spoke of and tracking down this woman as well.
“Let’s find out what we can about her and then go to her apartment.”
They read some more, clicking through the profiles of friends and family linked to her page that they could access.
“Her family really misses her,” Mila said with a quiver.
Putting a comforting arm around her, Imogen gave her a squeeze. “You don’t have to do this.” It had to bring back all kinds of memories. “You can go back to the hotel if you want. I can handle this.”
