the investigation. We did find a handkerchief with traces of Lila’s blood in Luther’s apartment in Portland.”
“That seems pretty compelling,” I say, taking a sip of tea.
“Yes, but it’s also consistent with Luther’s first story to you about meeting Lila in the clearing and then leaving her. Didn’t he tell you that he noticed her bleeding hand and gave her a handkerchief?”
“He was taunting me,” I say, sorry now that I told Kevin what Luther had said in the clearing. This telling the truth is cumbersome sometimes. “He told the real story when he had to.”
“Some would say he was coerced.”
“Do you say that?”
“I don’t like loose ends,” he says, nudging the laptop so it is aligned with the edge of the coffee table. I recall the boy who lined up his pens and notebooks in class.
“Life isn’t always so neat,” I say.
“No,” he agrees, leaning forward to click on a link at the side of the profile page. IceVirgin33’s message history appears. “We were able to access Luther’s message history with Lila on his Twitter account. Lila responded to a tweet of Luther’s about the lost girls of the Maiden Stone and then Luther suggested they continue their conversation in private messages on his Twitter account. Here’s her message to him:
Hi! I’m doing a paper on Cora Rockwell and the history of the missing Haywood girls and it sounds like you may have some ideas for me.
And his reply:
That’s a long and complicated history. How much time do you have?
“The messages go on like this for a couple of days . . .” Kevin says as he scrolls through a long thread of messages. “He’s careful not to seem too eager to meet her, but eventually he does suggest she come to Portland.”
“I bet he did,” I say, leaning forward to read the messages. “That’s just how he was with me—cool and distant at first. Look here.” I point at the screen to one of IceVirgin33’s messages.
You’ve got a keen investigative mind. You’d make a good journalist.
Lol. If journalism wasn’t dead, Lila had responded, adding a frowning face and a skull and crossbones emoji. I’m thinking of getting a PhD in history.
The conversation had smoothly veered into Lila’s hopes and dreams for the future, Luther drawing her out and coaxing her to give him more personal information.
“He’s grooming her,” I say.
Kevin nods. “Yeah, that’s pretty clear. Lila was smart, though. When he asks where she’s driving from, she deflects him by saying she’ll just Google Map directions. But after they met she acts differently. See here . . . she asks him if he’s coming to her play.”
“So he must have gained her trust when they met,” I say, leaning back and tucking the throw under my feet. “Luther was good at that.”
“Yeah, but I think he had help. Look at this.” He clicks on another box and opens a new message thread. Hey, I really liked your take on the Portland theater scene. We should meet up IRL.
“That’s Jill. I noticed they followed each other on Twitter. Jill said that’s how Luther and Lila connected in the first place, when Lila liked something Luther had tweeted about the Lost Girls.”
“Actually, the first contact was a tweet from this person called LostGirl99 that Lila, Luther, and Jill all retweeted. That’s what took them all to the site ‘Lost Girls of the Maiden Stone.’” He clicks on a link and the page opens up to the site I’d gone to earlier with its moody picture of the Maiden Stone wreathed in mist. Despite the gas fire and the throw and the hot tea—despite the fact that it’s seventy degrees outside—I begin to shake.
Thankfully, Kevin is too busy clicking to notice. “The tweet that led Lila, Jill, and Luther all to this site was from LostGirl99.” He clicks on LostGirl99’s Twitter profile with the peeling wallpaper and photograph of Noreen Bagley.
“I saw her before, I didn’t realize that was the first contact. My guess is that LostGirl99 is Lucinda Perkins, the archivist at Rockwell House,” I offer. “She’s obsessed with the Maiden Stone disappearances. She even dresses like Noreen Bagley. And she must know Luther since he was doing research at the museum. You should talk to her.”
“I have,” Kevin says. “She does know Luther and she was very upset by his death. She called him ‘the Maiden Stone’s latest victim.’” I’m tempted to laugh but I remember the look on Luther’s face when he slid into the water and shudder