Page 98 of The Words We Lost

I begin to shake my head, realizing there is so much I need to catch her up on since SaBrina’s phone call to me at the storage units. “Oh, Allie, I should have texted you. We’re not turning in the memoir.” I smile as brightly as I can given the hour. “We found Cece’s missing notebooks tonight—The Fate of Kings.”

I expect Allie to scream or clap or do some kind of cheerleading maneuver with those super long legs of hers, but she barely seems to register my words at all. “That’s super great, but you still need to see this.”

She has her phone flipped out to us, a screenshot of a social media post with a profile name I don’t recognize front and center. TaBitha Garwood. Once again, I start to shake my head, but Allie’s too quick on the draw.

“Something you said to me earlier this afternoon in the club car has been bothering me all day, and I couldn’t let it go till I figured it out. I’ve read all kinds of conspiracy theories about Cece after her death, across multiple platforms. There’s a pretty significant range of stupidity to choose from out there, but I’ve only ever read one post about a publisher’s offering a reward for bringing in the manuscript. It took me a while to find it, but it was posted on the memorial site about two months ago. We caught it and blocked it within twenty minutes, but still. It feels like more than just a coincidence that out of all the conspiracies, that’s one of the ones your boss rattled off to you today.”

Joel and I both take her phone and study the screenshot of the banned post.

TaBitha Garwood.

The profile is of an avatar with long brown hair, blue eyes, and huge ruby red lips.

The post reads:

Did you know Cecelia Campbell’s publisher (Fog Harbor Books—San Francisco) is offering a hefty monetary reward for finding The Fate of Kings? Wanted to make sure all you #FindWendy trackers knew about this! DM me and I’ll connect you with my source!

“What are you suggesting?” But by the drop in Joel’s voice, he’s already registered what Allie’s suggesting.

“She thinks SaBrina could be behind this post.”

Allie looks between the two of us. “I think considering what happened today, it looks pretty suspicious.”

And then I study the profile name again, closer this time. “TaBitha,” I say, with an emphasis on the second capital letter. “That’s how SaBrina spells her name, too—with the B capitalized just like that.” Was it coincidence or was it something more? “If she was behind this conspiracy...” I begin, my brain exploding with the implications of what such a discovery could mean and how far it might have gone if not for Allie’s insightful investigating.

“Then it’s likely not the only one of its kind,” Joel finishes for me. “How would we substantiate something like this, Allie?”

She huffs a hard breath. “Tracking malignant behavior online isn’t easy. Unless you could get access to her hard drive? But even then, it’s a fairly big undertaking, and she would have to be dumb enough to have used her work computer or laptop.”

“I don’t have access to that,” I say in a way that pulls both Allie and Joel’s attention. “ButI think I might know someone who could get us access.”

I race into the cottage and grab my phone from the counter.

“Ingrid, it’s after one in the morning,” Joel reminds me, as if Chip is some kind of normal human being who operates on normal human hours.

“Believe me, it’s not uncommon for Chip to be up this late, especially if the Nerd Herd is gaming online.”

“The Nerd Herd?” Allie repeats.

“There’s a reason our IT department isn’t asked to help brainstorm book titles.”

I tap Chip’s contact and put him on speakerphone. He answers on the first ring, not a touch of sleep to his voice. “What happened today? You never called me back to—”

“Hold on, Chip. First, you’re on speaker with my good friends here—Joel and Allie.”

“Hey, good friends Joel and Allie.”

“Second, we found the manuscript tonight.” It’s a better lead-in than,Hey, I think our boss is the equivalent of an online hitman. Although, he probably wouldn’t blink twice if that had been my opener to this conversation.

“Wait—you foundThe Fate of Kings? Seriously? Ingrid! That’s—”

“Yep,” I cut him off. “It’s incredible.”

“You certainly don’t sound like you were just handed job security for life at Fog Harbor. You realize SaBrina can’t touch you now—”

“Actually, she’s why I’m calling. We think there’s a chance SaBrina might be involved in more than just blackmailing her employees for information. We think she might have been responsible for sending deranged fans here, too, to Cece’s hometown, to harass Cece’s mother for the missing manuscript. Given the nature of her threats to me and a post my social-media-savvy friend here just found, we could have a solid case against her.”

The heaviness in his sigh is as telling as his next words. “I wish I could say I’m shocked, but this news is on par with Santa Claus not being real.”

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