by Amanda Tru
“Obviously not,” Drisklay said dryly. “Okay, let’s talk about user profiles in general. How did my victim end up matched with your murderer?”
Answering his question as he worked, Camden explained, “The client completes a detailed questionnaire, and the website uses an in-depth algorithm to make the matches along the specifications requested by the client. There are multiple options as far as the client’s level of involvement and how many matches they want. In Rebekah’s case, she selected one match and had very narrow parameters for that one date.”
“Would it be possible for someone who knew Rebekah’s answers to create a profile with the goal of being matched specifically to her?”
Camden hesitated. He hadn’t considered this, simply assuming the murder had been random. However, by the way Drisklay spoke, it almost sounded like he had a theory which involved someone Rebekah knew. Camden didn’t know whether this idea was more comforting or not. Either Rebekah met her murderer randomly through his site, or someone who knew her used the site as a tool to target and kill her.
“Normally, that would be very difficult,” Camden explained, not at all liking the answer he must give. “In this case, it is very possible. The algorithm places a high degree of value on a person’s religious preferences. Rebekah very adamantly refused to date someone who was not a dedicated Christian. She actually registered as a client a while ago, but up until this match, she had refused every name sent to her. With each one, she submitted her objections to the person prior to contacting them in any way and requested a different match. Most of her rejection reasons had to do with faith, but she also didn’t seem open to anyone adventurous or overly outgoing. This was the first match she willingly accepted and agreed to meet. Unfortunately, if someone knew Rebekah and the type of man she was interested in, it is possible that particular someone designed the profile to specifically appeal to her.”
Waves of guilt washed over him. He thought he’d been so careful with safety and security, and yet someone had used a weakness in his site procedures to end the life of someone else.
Seeming oblivious to Camden’s emotional state, Drisklay pressed, “So does your website specialize in fake people?”
“No,” Camden replied adamantly. Why was everything this man said at least mildly offensive?
“What about the account made you realize it was fake?” Drisklay pressed. “I can check out security footage from the library, but are there any other clues from the profile that stand out?”
Camden sighed, leaning back from his computer and running his hands wearily through his hair. “I already checked the library footage from that day and time of the account’s creation. I didn’t recognize anyone suspicious. You might have some of your department tech guys take a look and see if they can extrapolate any faces, but the camera angles seem to be good at getting the back of people’s heads.”
“What do you mean you checked the security footage?” Drisklay demanded.
“I mean while we’ve been talking, I accessed the library’s security footage on my screen and checked through the cameras in the computer area.” Hurrying to change the subject so that Drisklay didn’t push on that point further, Camden backtracked to answer his other question. “I don’t know that the profile contains any more helpful details. Whoever created it did a good job. The profile pic, the occupation, and all of the interests look quite real and match up eerily well to Rebekah’s. Their algorithm score of compatibility was very high. The only points they didn’t get were for areas where differences are scored at a higher value.”
“If the account is so perfect, how did you identify it as fake?”
Camden resigned himself to the fact that he was going to need to explain every single procedure involved in the site. “Verifying accounts is automated. I designed a system that runs background checks, internet searches, and a few other checks on every profile that is created. If the person cannot be proven to exist, then the account is immediately locked and pulled from public view. This profile took a little longer to identify it as fake. Usually, I get notification of them quite soon. John Paul’s profile was done well and also belonged to a name that is quite common. Verifying the name of John Paul is easy. Trying to find a specific John Paul and verify that he is who he says he is becomes more complicated.”
“So, all a killer has to do is make a fake account and make sure he gets the deed done before you figure it out.” It wasn’t a question. Drisklay was taunting him by stating it as already a proven fact.
Camden winced. He really didn’t need this man adding to his guilt. “When we first launched the site, we needed matches fast, and it didn’t seem necessary to wait for account verification. Our website provides more security than any other site out there, and we have other security measures already in place. I didn’t think it would matter if the verification came through an hour after notification of the match was sent. Rebekah’s case seems to be a combination of a few rare events. I will be making changes today to ensure that nothing like this can ever happen again. All accounts will need to be verified before they are placed publicly on the site and any matches made. You have no idea how sorry I am that I didn’t already do so on February thirteenth.”
“I need you to send me all the info from her profile and from her date’s. And I need it yesterday,” Drisklay said flatly.
“I can do that,” Camden answered. “I just need some kind of verification that you are who you say you are.”
The detective uttered a few choice words. “You’re serious? What, you want me to sing you a song just so you can give me the info you have on the screen in front of you?”
“I cannot grant private information to everyone who calls claiming to be a police detective.” Never mind this is the first. And hopefully the last. “If you simply send me a department email with your badge number, that should be enough verification, and I’ll respond with the info you need. I won’t be making the same mistake of releasing any information, for anyone, without proper verification.”
“Fine. Where should I have my assistant contact you?”
Camden rattled off the email, and with that, Drisklay was done.
Camden hesitated, not sure if he should mention anything else. “I assume you know the time of Rebekah’s kidnapping?” he said quickly, right before Drisklay could hang up.
Seeming a little irritated that the conversation was continuing at all, Drisklay answered. “The last she was seen, she was getting ready for her date at her home. That was in the evening around six-thirty. We don’t know yet exactly where or when the actual kidnapping occurred. We’re not sure where she was meeting her date, just that she was. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to—”
“6249 Waterford Street at 6:53 p.m.,” Camden said swiftly.
“What?” Drisklay sputtered. “You’re saying that’s where and when she was kidnapped? How can you possibly know that?”
“Like I said, the website has some unparalleled security measures. Rebekah had her phone, and she’d apparently left the Betwixt app running. I have a tracking location for her at that address at the time, but nothing after that. Either her phone was disposed of, turned off, or the app disabled at 6:53. It looks like that street number is a parking lot.”
Drisklay’s tone was thoughtful. “Yes, that area has restaurants within walking distance of that lot. That’s probably where she was planning to go but never made it. You’ll send me the tracking information, I assume.”
“I will,” Camden confirmed, already adding the needed pieces to an email draft.
“What did you say your name was? Hutchins?” Drisklay asked, now openly curious.
“Why?” Camden asked warily.
“Because I know a sixteen-year-old internet quack from a guy who knows his stuff. Your tracking methods and security are unconventional, to put it mildly. Exactly who are you, Hutchins?”
Camden swallowed, his throat tight. “That’s not something you want to know or pursue, Drisklay.” Keeping his voi
ce calm but infusing it with steel, he continued. “I’m not your investigation. I helped you, but that’s the end of it. Please don’t reveal where you got any of the information. Let me repeat, who I am is something you can NOT know. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I believe I do,” Drisklay said, his tone turning back to brisk and irritable.
“Not even an internet search,” Camden clarified.
“Understood. You get me the info I need, I’ll pretend not to be curious. Deal?”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Rebekah and any role Betwixt Two Hearts played.” Camden paused. Drisklay’s disdain for Christianity was apparent, but Camden couldn’t sign off without adding, “I’ll be praying for your investigation and that you find whoever is responsible. I’ll also pray for Rebekah’s family. I can’t imagine the pain they’re feeling.”
Drisklay’s voice was dry and scratchy, and Camden couldn’t tell whether it was threaded with actual emotion or the usual scorn. “I’m not sure your prayers will do them any good after the fact. See ya around, Hutchins.”
The line went dead. No thanks or expression of appreciation. He was gone as suddenly as the random ringing of the phone, and Camden doubted he would ever talk to the man again.
Camden took a few minutes to pray for Drisklay’s investigation, Rebekah’s family, and for Drisklay himself, though he’d not had the guts to mention that one to the surly detective. After a few moments, he felt a little relief from the guilt. It was the nature of the fallen world for good things to be used for bad purposes, and Camden wasn’t responsible for someone else’s sin. Though he couldn’t predict the future or prevent bad things from happening to his clients, he could take steps to make sure his website was the safest possible.
A few minutes later, he’d changed website protocol so that no profile was made public or matched with another before making it through the verification process. He called it the Rebekah protocol.
He checked his inbox and saw an email come through from the Boston Police Department. He was putting the finishing touches on his reply email when the door to the office opened. Seeing Bailey, Camden startled, quickly pressing send and switching tabs on his computer screen before turning to greet her as nonchalantly as possible. Unfortunately, he could only imagine Bailey’s fury if she found out about Rebekah Harrison. He also knew it would hit her hard emotionally, and he didn’t want to cause her to bear the guilt and pain.
“Hi, Bailey! How was your weekend?” he greeted as if he wasn’t hiding anything at all.
This was one burden he’d shoulder alone.
Bailey tried to smile, but she knew she looked tired and pale. “My weekend wasn’t as expected, but it was still good. I got to see Elise.”
Hopefully, Camden wouldn’t press her for a full report. She knew she’d eventually need to tell him everything that went on in Seattle, but she wasn’t emotionally up for it yet. She just didn’t know how to casually say, So I broke up with my boyfriend and got saved this weekend. How was yours?
“Did Dad pick you up at the airport?” Camden asked. “I wasn’t sure what time your flight arrived.”
“And that is the exact reason why you weren’t the one picking me up,” Bailey remarked dryly as she walked over to her computer and turned it on.
Her full weekend had included staying with Elise and moving out of her former apartment with Dekker. Even though Dekker kept his plans and didn’t stick around much, Elise and her husband had spent the whole time helping and acting as a buffer between them the few times when he showed up. While she had succeeded in moving everything into storage, it left neither her nor Elise any time to work on website tasks. They were currently extremely behind and needed to put in long hours the next few days to get caught up.
“Israel actually picked me up,” Bailey informed. “He was in Brighton Falls for work but then needed to head back to Crossroads to take Chloe to an appointment of some kind. I was originally supposed to fly in yesterday, but I had to finish a few things in Seattle and moved my flight to today.”
Bailey brought up her email account and felt daunted by the number of messages she needed to sort through. Seeing one from Selby, the sister whom she’d sent the lists of potential dates for her brother, she quickly clicked on it. Selby had kept her updated on Heath’s journey through the lists as he plowed through them like a speed dating session gone very wrong.
Bailey eagerly awaited the email announcing that Heath had made some progress, but it hadn’t happened yet. Now she worried that, once again, Camden had been right. Maybe she shouldn’t have sent those lists. Even though Selby had specifically wanted names for Heath to practice dating, Bailey had hoped he would magically find the right one—on the list she had created, of course. Instead, she had essentially doomed each woman on there to a date that was, at the minimum, an unforgettable experience.
“I would have picked you up if you’d asked,” Camden said, his hurt voice coming from right over her shoulder.
Bailey startled, quickly minimizing the email so Camden wouldn’t see it. If he found out that she’d broken company policy and gone behind his back to disobey his wishes, he would be very upset.
Would he even forgive her? The thought chilled Bailey, and she couldn’t handle the idea that it might ruin their relationship.
Trying to answer as if she weren’t hiding anything at all, she turned to Camden and said, “Don’t feel bad, Camden. I know where your talents lie and where they don’t. Even with your best intentions, a decent possibility still existed that you’d get involved with work, and I’d be left waiting at the airport again.”
“I would have made sure I was there on time,” Camden grumbled, his tone still matching the hurt feelings of a three-year-old.
Bailey shook her head. Poor Camden didn’t realize that the fact that he couldn’t keep track of time when working in no way lessened Bailey’s opinion of him. The man was wonderfully smart, wonderfully quirky, and all-around wonderful as well. She really didn’t care who picked her up at the airport, just as long as she was picked up.
“Don’t feel bad, Camden,” she urged. “The change in my schedule actually worked well with Israel picking me up. Plus, when I arrived back in Crossroads, we picked up Chloe from the daycare so she they could head directly to the appointment after dropping me off. She showed me the origami cat family you made for her. That was definitely an added bonus.”
A smile quirked through Camden’s sour expression. “Apparently, I need to now figure out how to fold a unicorn family as well, at least that’s Chloe’s next request.”
“Whatever you’re doing seems to definitely be helping. She was very excited about that cat family. She seemed almost happy.”
“Chloe is doing amazingly well,” Camden said, his expression full of gentle love. “I guess in a three-year-old’s mind, mommy going to live in heaven is easier to understand than mommy left and doesn’t want to be with you anymore. Israel, on the other hand, will probably struggle with both for a very long time. One explanation is definitely not better than the other in his mind since they both involve a great deal of guilt.”
Bailey nodded. “Israel did mention how much he appreciates all of your help. I think picking me up gave him a small sense of satisfaction to feel like he was doing something to help you.”
Camden nodded sadly. “For the first time in a long time, things are good between my brother and me. It’s just sad that it took a tragedy to draw us to this point.”
Bailey watched him as he turned and pushed a few buttons on the printer. Grief still tinged his stormy eyes. It wasn’t his own grief, though. It was a grief of empathy for his brother. His strong jaw was tight, and a few more lines of stress marked his face. Bailey could read the exhaustion from shouldering much of the burden his family was going through. Israel had been so upset by Marissa’s passing that Camden took over most of the prep for the memorial service, which had turned out beautifully. He’d also taken extra time to play and give atte
ntion to Chloe, helping her work through just about the worst thing a child could experience.
Camden was an amazing man, and she now realized why. Over the last few weeks, she’d also witnessed the depth of his faith. She’d seen and heard him pray with Israel, Chloe, and other family members, seeming to draw his strength from the Lord.
He gave of himself so much that Bailey wished she could do something for him. He really deserved to find someone as wonderful as him. He needed someone who would love and care for him in the same way he loved and cared for others.
Slowly, an idea began to form.
“Camden, I know who I want to use as my last selection for the contest,” she said suddenly.
“What?” Camden asked, not seeming to remember that they even had a contest.
“You know, the contest where we each arrange dates and get points if they are successful? Remember? We are tied now. I have two points from the date you arranged, and you have two points—one from the church date I attempted, and one for the basketball game. I still don’t know if that last one qualifies since you matched Jeff up with two girls. I don’t even know which one he ended up with, but I’ll go ahead and give you a point anyway.”
“Both,” Camden grinned rakishly. “I checked. So far, the guy seems to be thoroughly enjoying dating both women. They seem to be very well aware of each other and have even gone on a few group dates with all of them. They use the app a lot for scheduling, so I’ve been able to keep track. The jury is still out on which one he’ll end up with.”
“That’s actually probably a very good thing for Jeff. That will give him experience with women, even if they don’t ever go beyond the friendship level.”
“So we’re tied,” Camden granted, folding his arms across his front and looking at her with speculation. “Who is your final pick?”
“You,” Bailey announced gleefully.
“What? No,” Camden said, suddenly realizing that she was actually serious. “Absolutely not. No. I refuse to be one of your guinea pigs. No.”