Still thirty feet away, Allison lip-read the words as much as heard them. As she unbuttoned her coat, she announced, “The Triple Threat Club is now in session.”
The three women hadn’t been close in high school. After graduation, they didn’t see each other again until their tenth reunion, where their common interest in crime—Cassidy’s in covering it, Nicole’s in fighting it, and Allison’s in prosecuting it—had drawn them together. A month later, Allison had suggested they meet for dinner. A friendship had begun over a shared dessert called Triple Threat Chocolate Cake, which featured devil’s food cake filled with rich chocolate mousse and topped with shaved chocolate.
As Allison pulled out a chair, Cassidy said, “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. And you were the one who picked this place.”
“Sorry. I was in a meeting that ran long.”
“We saved you some onion rings.” Cassidy pushed a plate toward Allison. Her lips were shiny with grease.
Suddenly feeling a little queasy, Allison shook her head. “That’s okay.”
“We’ve already ordered,” Nicole said, “but I kept a menu if you need one.”
“I already know what I want.”
The menu never changed. Jake’s served comfort food, all of it tasting of her childhood, back when her dad was still alive and her mom still cooked and Lindsay could still be counted on to come home at night. Pot roast, sirloin steak, prime rib, meat loaf with potatoes and gravy.
When the waiter came, Allison ordered the pork chop.
“You’ve got to try some of this Cab. It’s just”—Nicole let out a long sigh—“relaxing.” She filled Allison’s glass. “Let me tell you about this case someone else in cyber crimes is handling. He’s working with Jack in your office on it, Allison. What happens is: Husband and wife get a divorce. He moves out of state. Then he goes online and puts an ad on an adult sex site. And in the ad, he claims to be the ex-wife. He says, ‘This is my name, this is my phone number, this is my address, this is where I work, this is the kind of car I drive and the license number, and here’s my picture.’ But all the info he gives is hers. And then he says, ‘Oh, and my fantasy is to be stalked and raped.’”
Allison shook her head. How could someone who had promised to love and honor another human replace that with a rage so intense it caught things on fire?
Nicole continued, “So another guy answers the post. Of course, he thinks he’s talking to the ex-wife. And the ex-husband pretends to be her and says, ‘Yeah, this is my biggest fantasy, ha-ha. If you do it, I’ll pretend to resist because it just enhances the excitement.’”
Cassidy squirmed in her seat like a little kid. “Then what happened?”
“So this guy breaks in while the ex-wife is asleep one night. And he’s got a dozen roses and a box of See’s candy and a gag and a pair of handcuffs. And the whole time she’s fighting him off, he’s getting more excited, because it’s just like she said it would be. He gets one handcuff on her, but before he can cuff her to the bed, she beans him with the bedside lamp. When he wakes up, he’s under arrest and he’s the one wearing the cuffs.” Nicole looked at Allison. “The dilemma for your office is, what do we charge him with? Attempted rape? Or what?”
“I want in on this one,” Cassidy said.
Nicole wagged a finger at her. “I don’t want you to give anyone ideas. All I need is a bunch of bitter ex-husbands setting it up so that some stranger kills their ex.”
Cassidy looked self-righteous. “The public has a right to know.”
Nicole snorted. “Don’t give me that. It’s just pure titillation. There’s nothing a potential victim could do to stop this. All you’re doing is giving bad guys ideas.”
Taking on the familiar role of peacemaker, Allison changed the subject. “I saw you on TV last night, Cassidy.” She picked up her wine glass, remembered the baby, put it down. “On that segment about the missing girl.”
“Blink, and you would have missed it.” Cassidy set down her own glass, already empty.
“I must have missed it.” Nicole tipped some more wine into her own glass and then Cassidy’s. “So—a little kid? I didn’t hear anything about that.”
Cassidy shook her head. “No, a high school junior—seventeen years old. She went out to walk the dog and never came home. When we filmed the story, she’d only been gone a little over twenty-four hours. Now it’s been more than forty-eight, and there’s still no sign of her. When the parents contacted me, the locals weren’t taking them too seriously. But something about it didn’t feel right to me. This girl, Katie Converse, is home on break from being a Senate page in DC. Her parents told me there’s only about a hundred kids who get to do it from around the whole country. Someone like that would be responsible.”
“Maybe she’s just holed up with some boy, and now she’ll never live it down,” Nicole said.