Page 67 of Love in Training
She doesn’t immediately respond, so I continue.
“I have to admit, I was confused,” I say carefully. “Did you know Colin had a business partner when we met for our interview?”
She sighs. “Honestly? Yes. I just didn’t really care.”
My chest flares at her words, but I keep my voice even. “I might have written the feature differently if I’d had that information, ma’am.”
“Your article was perfect,” she says. “Everyone knows the truth now. I’ve been offered nothing but sympathy since I filed for divorce.”
“Sounds like you got exactly what you wanted,” I say, trying to force a smile onto my face.
“Is there something else I can help you with, Ms. Phipps?”
Rufus’s muzzle slides into my lap. Usually when he does this, I’m quick to push him away. But I take a moment to stroke his ears as I gather myself. “Yes. I have some real concerns about Mr. Vanderpool’s business partners. Do you have any idea who they might be?”
She’s quiet for so long, I pull the phone away from my ear to ensure we weren’t disconnected.
“Sorry, I can’t help you.”
“Mrs. Vander?—”
“Richards,” she corrects. “Sorry, I have no further information, and I have to run. Thank you for your efforts, Ms. Phipps. Please don’t contact me again.”
After my first phone call gets me absolutely nowhere, I circle the question I wrote down after my meeting with Randall:Is there somethingelsegoing on with Unmatched?Then I pour myself another cup of coffee and change my approach.
“Denver County Sheriff’s Office, this is Maya.”
“Hey Deputy, it’s Caprice atMile High Observer.”
“Caprice! I haven’t seen you at spin class lately. Did you switch gyms?”
I cut my eyes to Rufus, curled up on the wreck of my couch. “No, I’ve just been tied up with some stuff. I’m hoping to get back in the rhythm soon.”
“I totally get that. What can I help you with today?”
“Actually, I was just thinking about a conversation we had last fall,” I say, flipping my notebook to a fresh page. “I think it was right after the Boulder Marathon. You were telling me about some jerk drugging women he met on dating apps?”
Maya snarls. “Oh, I definitely remember that. Pretty sure that dirtbag’s case is still pending trial.”
“Could I request copies of the police reports on him?”
“It would be my pleasure,” she says, tapping at a keyboard in the background. “But didn’tDenver Editorialalready run a big story about that?”
“Yep. I’m not really interested in him specifically,” I say, scanning my notes. “I’m taking a closer look at the dating apps themselves. Has the sheriff’s office had to deal with them directly at all?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She scoffs. “Which is one reason I personally won’t use any of them.”
I straighten in my chair. “Care to tell me more?”
Maya hums into the phone. “They’re like a haven for predators. The guys sign up, make a charming profile to lure their victims. And once they get what they want, they delete the whole thing and start over. I followed up with one victim who reported a man she met on Ignite. He’d drugged and assaulted her, then created a new profile two days later. When she contacted the company to flag him, they never even replied to her. They just deleted his original account—andhers. So she couldn’t even access their chat history, which she needed for evidence.”
“What?After he assaultedher?Is that even legal?”
“People sign liability agreements when they use these apps.” She sniffs. “And the companies make money no matter what happens.”
I pick my jaw off the floor and sit on that a minute. “Any chance that victim would be willing to speak with me, Maya?”
“Maybe.” She pauses. “But I can’t give you her info.”
