Page 15 of The Killer You Know

Special Agent Fallon Baxter

And a party it is. Robin’s direct messages are a potpourri featuring pictures of dirty man parts, spammers, and an entire cache of women sharing their personal stories and anecdotes with her.

“Here it is,” Jack says, pointing to the lower half of the screen. “@DBag. That’s Derek.”

“At least he’s honest,” Nikki says, clicking in and, sure enough, there’s a decent exchange between the two of them.

We read over it quickly.

“He’s letting her know he’s back in town,” Jack reads above a whisper, mostly to himself. “Asking if she’s up for coffee. He’s looking to reconnect. Nothing particularly nefarious.”

“Really?” I say. “The woman was married. I don’t know. What exactly is he looking to reconnect?”

“Maybe they were close friends?” Jack offers, although not convincingly.

“Maybe so,” Nikki says. “But like my mama always used to say—that third leg of his will always get in the way.”

“Your mama is wise.” I laugh. “But look, Robin turned him down.”

Buddy gives a soft woof and Jack rewards him with a slice of pizza.

“That’s right, Buddy,” Jack says, giving him a scratch. “I think we’re on the right track, too.”

We zip over to Facebook and take a look at her private messages there.

“Look at this,” I point to the middle of the screen, “A group chat called Girls of AHH. I bet that’s Aspen Heights High. And I bet this is the group that Vanessa mentioned.”

We click in and there are more than fifty girls in there.

Jack leans in hard and grunts as he inspects the list of names under members. “I can confirm they’re all from my graduating class.”

Nikki tips her head. “Can you confirm how many of these women you deprived of their virginity?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.” He winks my way as he says it.

“What did you wink at me for?” I say, taking umbrage with the fact before shaking my head at Nikki. “We have nothing to hide.”

“That’s one direction I’m not hunting for clues in,” she’s quick to reply.

“Brittney’s in the group, too,” Jack says, nodding back at the screen. “See any interesting exchanges?” He leans in once again as we strain to race through the trough of messages. Several happy birthdays, lots of holiday greetings, women asking for a good esthetician, the hunt for the best place for Mexican in Aspen Heights, a few inquiries about private schools, and —

“Bingo,” I say, pointing to the bottom of the chat. “Someone’s asking for a realtor.”

“And someone chimes in that Brittney is the best,” Nikki says. “Next comment up is Robin, attesting to the fact. Sounds like Robin worked with Brittney in a professional manner.”

“Come to think of it, they hung out a lot,” Jack says.

“Good to note,” Nikki says and does just that.

Nikki scrolls through the messages rapidly. “Mostly reminiscing about high school days—wait, here’s something about the upcoming reunion.”

“Look at this.” I laugh just below the chatter of the reunion. “They’re listing the boys they can’t wait to see again. And there’s your name, Jackie,” I say, reaching over and patting him on the back. “You must be so proud.”

“Not really.” His chest expands as his eyes stay glued to the screen. “Derek’s name is there, too.”

“A woman named Sophie Clark says, ‘The things we did with that boy!’” Nikki lifts a brow my way. “Derek sounds as if he got around as well.”

“Were all the guys players at this school of yours?” I ask Jack with a hint of a smile. “And what exactly were they teaching there?”

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