Stolen in Love

by G. G. Andrew

  “Are you trying to guilt me like Mom does?” he asked. “Can’t you go file a police report? You should file a report.”

  Kim shook her head. “I can’t, you know I can’t. I just want to check this flash drive out, then return it to the jackass who wants it before he leaves a torpedo on Mom and Dad’s front lawn.” She sighed, letting some of her emotions creep into her voice, along with a heap of her exhaustion. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

  Ian frowned, but she could tell they were wearing him down.

  “Fine.”

  Twenty minutes later, the three of them pulled up to Prudence’s business located in an old house in New Haven.

  Prudence Davenport had one of those names that only half fit her. True, she lived up to the moniker by being born into incredible wealth, the daughter of an investor who owned three or eight or maybe two companies—it was always shifting. But sensible and prudent she was not, though Kim knew from what she’d heard around town that Prue was whip-smart and successful in her own risk-prone way.

  If rumors were true, Prue also engaged in some hactivism on the side, and not always on the right side of the law. That was the other reason Kim was here. She needed someone to find out what was on this drive, but also stay quiet about it.

  They got out of the car and walked to the house.

  With Ian and Laurel beside her, Kim knocked on the door. The house was painted white, but it had begun to peel, as if the inhabitants had more important things on their minds.

  Inside the house came a yell and then laughter.

  Outside, the Xavier siblings had fallen into silence, so much that Kim was fighting off the urge to whistle. Laurel was on her left, so if Ian ran, they could each grab an arm and hold him back. He stood between them, but a step behind, like he was thinking of doing just that. Kim regretted her parents letting him participate in high school track.

  “Everything okay?” Kim asked him over her shoulder as another shout and burst of laughter came from the house.

  “Yes.” Ian crossed his arms and scowled. “I’m trying to remind myself that you’re my sister and I care about you right now.”

  Kim had the feeling that something between Prue and Ian had happened before she left law school—she didn’t know what, but it was clear that Ian wasn’t happy. Prue seemed unbothered when she’d bumped into them at Ian’s graduation, so Kim guessed he’d been friend-zoned.

  The door to the house opened suddenly to a woman laughing. She had auburn hair fastened back into a ponytail, a Yale Bulldogs shirt, and baggy sweatpants. But Kim had seen her in the news at various state banquets wearing cocktail dresses worth thousands of dollars of her father’s money, so she knew she cleaned up nice.

  Kim snuck a glimpse back at Ian and guessed he thought the same, because he wasn’t saying anything. He looked like a man sent to the gallows as he stared at Prue’s toenails—chipped red polish—and then slowly worked his gaze up her, like he might as well get it over with.

  “Yes,” Prue said, biting back her laughter. “Sorry. Can I help you?” Her eyes found Ian lurking behind them. “Oh, Ian! Hi.”

  Ian swallowed. “Hey there, Prue.” He smiled and gave her a sheepish wave, like he was trying to play cool.

  “Long time, no see.”

  “Yeah.”

  An awkward silence descended, and Laurel gave her sister a wide-eyed look, so Kim shoved out her hand. “Hi, I’m Kim. Ian’s sister. We met at his graduation?”

  “Oh, sure. Hello.” Prue shook her hand, a smile still on her face.

  “We were wondering if you could help us with something,” Kim said.

  “Hmm, maybe.” Prue’s smile turned impish, and her head tilted. She rested a hand on the doorframe. “It depends on what it is.”

  “It’s a flash drive. With a file on it I can’t open.”

  “That I can help you with.” Prue gestured with her hand. “Come on in.”

  The three followed her into the house. Smelling of paint, the front area was divided by makeshift partitions which separated cubicles piled with laptops, fast food wrappers, and action figures. A burly guy with floppy blond hair tinkered on a computer while eating a bagel and streaming a show on a tablet. Kim spied a Hot Haven cup on his desk and her stomach twisted, remembering Boyd’s face from the other day.

  “The guys are here working, but we can go to my office in the back,” Prue called over the noise. They passed a beat-up couch alongside one wall which held an open cardboard box of game controllers. There was a room in the back that was relatively neater—or at least had a clear path to its desk—and this is where she led them.

  Plopping into a comfy swivel chair, Prue spun towards them as they crowded into the room. She still hadn’t put on shoes. “So, what do you have?”

  Kim fished the flash drive out of her pocket. “This.”

  Prue wheeled over to grab the drive out of her hand and then wheeled back to the desk, plugging it into the laptop in front of her. “So, Ian,” she said while she waited for the contents to load, “how’s the practice of law going?”

  “Pretty good,” he said as his eyes scanned the room. “Busy.”

  “I bet.” She flashed him a quick grin. “Me too. We should get a drink some time and catch up.”

  Ian’s eyes widened, like the prospect was somewhere between winning the lotto and being thrown out of an airplane without a parachute. “Sure.”

  Prue turned back to the drive, hit a few keys. “Hmm, interesting.”

  “Do you know what it is?” Kim asked.

  “Not yet.” Prue’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she squinted at the screen. “It’s encrypted, all right.”

  “Can you open it?”

  “Sure. Just give me a few minutes.” She tossed a quick look over her shoulder. “There are some chairs outside the office, if you want to drag them in.”

  Laurel found the chairs and pulled them into the room. Kim sat in one that was cushioned and swiveled like Prue’s, but she couldn’t seem to get comfortable. She crossed her legs and shook a sandaled foot impatiently as she watched Prue work.

  Why was she here? What did it matter what was on this thing? She should’ve just put it in her mailbox last night and been done with the whole situation. She didn’t know why she hadn’t. Curiosity killed the cat and all. Obviously she hadn’t hit her bad decision quota this week.

  As Prue fiddled, Ian studied the back of her head, his hands shoved in his pockets. He’d refused a chair. “So what have you been working on?” he asked Prue.

  “Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Prue said offhandedly. She winked in his direction. “Hacking into guys’ computers, finding out their porn preferences.”

  Ian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Hacking into… you can find that out?”

  Kim almost groaned from revulsion, guessing from her brother’s nerves around the redhead what his preferences were. She exchanged a glance with Laurel, who had her lips pressed together, fighting off laughter. Kim looked away before she busted up. She was glad at least they were both there with her.

  “Aha!” Prue said a minute later. “Whoever did this is good. But I’m better.”

  “You opened it?”

  “I’m about to.”

  “What’s on it?” Laurel asked.

  “I’m not sure…” Prue began. A folder was open on the screen, with several files on it. She clicked on what looked like a simple word processing document. The document popped up, page after page covered with names and addresses.

  “It’s a list,” Kim said.

  Prue scrolled through. She didn’t speak for half a minute. “I don’t think this is an invite list to a bridal shower, though,” she finally said.

  Kim stood to lean over Prue’s shoulder. Elle Smith, Deidre Laughlin… The names were followed by blocks of text with phone numbers and addresses, but there were also web links, parent and sibling names, former workplaces, and social media handles.

  “They’re all
women,” Prue said right as Kim came to the same realization.

  “Why would someone care about this?” Kim mumbled.

  Prue turned, her eyes sharp. “Where’d you get this?”

  “I stole it,” Kim said. At Prue’s startled glance, she added, “It’s a thing I do. Used to do.” She swallowed. “I mean, I took it without realizing it had anything important on it, and whoever wants it back trashed my apartment and left me a note saying to stick it in my mailbox. Then they scratched my car with a knife.”

  “Geez,” Prue said. “What an asshole.”

  “Yeah.”

  Prue returned to the original folder again, and Kim saw that it mostly contained image files. Prue opened one, and then another.

  “All women here too. Mostly profile shots.” She went back to the document of names and rested her chin in one hand, studying it. “I’ve got a bad feeling here.”

  Kim did too. “Why would somebody need a bunch of women’s addresses?”

  “Why indeed.” Prue tapped her fingers against her lips. Then she lifted her chin, highlighted one of the street names on the document, and brought up a browser window on her computer. “If any of you are squeamish about porn, I’d look away now.” An image of a bare-chested woman filled the monitor.

  “Eww,” Laurel said.

  “Um…” Ian laughed nervously.

  “Shh,” Prue said. “I’m working.”

  She put the street name in a search box at the top, but no results popped up. She pulled up another website, again featuring not one but three women in compromising positions on its homepage. She copied and pasted another street name, then another.

  Kim’s mouth had gone dry. She didn’t know exactly what Prue was trying to find, but most of her hoped she didn’t find it.

  “Bingo,” Prue exclaimed said as a search yielded something. She turned the monitor in their direction. “I thought so.”

  The page on the screen had small profile pictures of sexy women alongside blocks of texts that read like personal ads. Skylar Lincoln’s bio said she liked rough sex with strangers, and she’d listed her address, along with an invitation to any interested men to come over, no questions asked.

  “She didn’t write that ad,” Kim said, her pulse kicking up.

  “Nope,” Prue said. “Seriously doubtful.” She pulled up another website, this one a general one with various ads of people searching for everything from babysitting gigs to furniture, and started searching some of the other women’s names and addresses.

  “All of these women are having this information posted without their consent?” Laurel asked. “Who would do this?”

  “Who indeed,” Prue mused. “It looks like some of these women have been targeted. Sometimes you get this from shitty ex-boyfriends with too much time on their hands. They take images the women gave them when they were dating and use them in revenge porn after they break up. Sometimes they take their heads and put them on other naked women’s bodies. Or they dox them.”

  “Dox?” Laurel asked.

  “It’s when someone takes your personal information and posts it publicly,” Ian said behind them. His face was hard as he stared at the screen. “You can use it to expose someone’s identity or make them fearful that someone’s going to show up at their home if you put their address out there. Sometimes people rile up their buddies or random guys on the internet to make those threats.”

  “Who would do that?” Laurel asked.

  “A lot of angry dickheads on the internet,” Prue said. “And if there’s one thing the internet has, it’s a lot of pissed-off people. People who’ve been dumped, people who’ve been rejected, people who don’t like your politics or what you post or how you look in a bikini. People who’ve got serious axes to grind, and totally let loose if they can be anonymous.” She clicked on something on the screen. “Here’s another hit. Another come-to-my-house-for-rough-sex one.”

  A shot of fury, white and hot, zipped through Kim’s veins. “So this guy who made this list has been rejected by dozens of women, and he’s going after them all.” Her stomach dropped. “Or…”

  “Or he’s doing it for other people,” Prue finished her thought. “For fun. Or profit.”

  “Jesus Christ, that shouldn’t be the color of anyone’s parachute,” Kim said.

  Prue looked at her. Her smile was bitter. “I believe that parachute color is baby-shit green.”

  Laurel exhaled, and she and Ian started speaking at once.

  “We need to—”

  “The cops should—”

  Kim straightened up. “I know. But this guy, whoever he is, is after me, and until he gets this back, he’s going to keep at it.”

  Ian ran his hand through his hair. “Officer Culpepper’s involved, right? He’s helping you out. You should tell him about this.”

  Kim exchanged a look with her sister. “He’s going to go with me today to return the drive to my mailbox. Speaking of…” She turned to Prue. “I should probably get it back so I can go do that before he starts combing the city.”

  Prue clicked on the screen a few times and then removed the drive, handing it over.

  Kim accepted it, but felt cowardly, like she was turning her back on that entire list of women. But what could she do? She was being threatened herself, and she was in over her head here. Way over her head.

  “The women can contact some of those websites, ask for the pictures and ads to be taken down. And contact the cops,” Prue added. “They might already know that, but if they don’t…”

  “Got it.”

  “Call me if you need any more help,” Prue added. “I don’t usually do this kind of stuff, but I might be able to help. I’ve dabbled in assholes.”

  “Thanks.” Kim slid the flash drive into her pocket, the object hard and sharp against her leg. She started walking towards the front door with the others behind her. She walked quickly, past the couch and makeshift cubicles and guy to the front door.

  She wanted away from those images on the screen, all those names.

  She knew what it was like to be exposed, to have your personal information and life broadcast in places you didn’t want. She had a police record. Of course, probably most of these women were innocent, which was something she couldn’t ever claim.

  Laurel caught up with her before she reached the door, her arm brushing against Kim’s.

  “You okay?” she whispered.

  “Fine,” Kim breathed back.

  Prue said behind them, “You should call me some time, Ian. Have that coffee.”

  Ian paused. “Um, okay.”

  “Wow. Or not,” Prue said, laughing.

  “I don’t have your number,” Ian said quickly. “Or I would…call you. If I had your number.”

  Kim didn’t turn around, but she guessed Ian’s pale, bespectacled face was turning maroon. Laurel nudged her and she almost smiled, but then her palm brushed against the bulge of the flash drive in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to get rid of it. All those women, and what could she do about it?

  She opened the front door.

  Outside, the day was overcast, and nothing had changed, but she knew what she had to do.

  “Guys, can you wait in the car a minute?” she said to her siblings.

  “Sure.” Laurel nodded, and she and Ian headed for the vehicle.

  Kim went inside and spoke with Prue for a few more minutes. Then she left again, and the Xaviers drove back to Laurel’s.

  ~

  On the way home, her mom called. She’d been expecting the call—Kim had left her a voicemail last night, explaining she was staying at Laurel’s, but without saying why—but she didn’t expect the iciness in her mother’s tone.

  “I assume you’re coming back here tonight?” Diane asked.

  “Um, not exactly.” She didn’t want to tell her mother about the knife or flash drive. She’d go ballistic, and Kim had enough to worry about. “I thought I’d stay with Laurel for a few days. So we can catch up.”

&n
bsp; “You talk to Laurel all the time,” her mother snapped.

  “It’s closer to my work,” Kim volleyed.

  “Not by that much,” Diane retorted. “I would’ve thought you’d want your own room. And a place to sleep that didn’t smell like paint fumes.”

  Kim bit her lip. Her mother had warmed to the idea of her eldest dating an artist, but she wasn’t past the tendency to get little digs in from time to time.

  She knew she wasn’t going to win this, so she said, “Mom, I’ve got to go. I have an appointment.”

  “Fine,” Diane said, and she ended the call.

  “She sounds mad,” Laurel said as she drove her car down a tree-lined suburban street.

  “Yeah, weirdly so,” Kim said.

  Laurel paused. “I bet she wants you to be near her. I bet that’s it.”

  At Laurel’s place, just like she knew he’d be, Scott Culpepper leaned against an unmarked car parked across the street, his arms crossed. He wore slacks and a short-sleeved blue plaid shirt, not a uniform, but his posture screamed cop all the same.

  Kim got out of the car, and their eyes met. She sighed. She was torn between walking up to him and resting her head against his chest or telling him to fuck off.

  “That looks like—” Ian began.

  “Yup,” Kim said. “Sure does.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Scott

  Kim wore the same jeans she’d had on last night, and a thin, long sleeved tan sweater that seemed like something her sister would wear. On Laurel, it would’ve looked elegant, but tight against Kim’s curves, it was giving Scott thoughts that were anything but sophisticated. He dove his hands into his pockets and observed her as she walked up to him.

  Her expression was odd, half-irritated and half-vulnerable.

  Kim’s siblings stood in the driveway to Laurel’s home, gawking at him. He gave them a stiff wave and smile.

  Kim reached him.

  “You’re late,” he said. He’d been barely able to sleep, between what Kim had told him last night and what she hadn’t. He’d had the morning off, but by lunchtime, he’d had Bette come over, telling her he needed to run errands before work. She was having a good knee day and had agreed, though he sensed she knew he was up to something.